Catch My Breath
by HopelessWreck
Summary: Jason/Dick. In which Jason was never Robin, just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time. When Dick is captured from a nightclub that Jason just happens to be at, it's up to Bruce, Jason and Tim to rescue him. Unfortunately things are never that easy, especially in Jason Todd's world. Dick's in more trouble than they thought and Jason may be the only one who can help him.
1. Chapter 1

Decided to try putting this up here. Will add more, hopefully.

Slash, language (lots) and other things...Don't like..

..you know the rest

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Catch My Breath

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Chapter 1

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The club smells like sweat, alcohol and sex. Not entirely unpleasant, but certainly an aroma all its own. Crowded, way more crowded than Jason had expected. The place is nothing really special. Roy has taken off as usual, lost somewhere in the crowd. Good to know his friend has abandoned him for the call of booze and some loose pussy. Stupid bastard is probably too coked up to know the difference anyway.

Looks like Jason is on his own.

The music is pounding so damn loud, in that annoying house mix that repeats a constant base that gives him a headache. Lights flash in neon colors and he can barely see two feet in front of him. Someone bumps him, dropping half a shot on his shoulder. He pushes them away, hears a half slurred hey and continues on. The dance floor moves like an ocean. Bodies grind in unison to the deafening beat of the music.

Hands move, touching him, anywhere, everywhere as he tries to move past them. Personal space is lost in the swarm. Everyone is touching everyone, unconcerned about being too close. The closer they are, the happier they seem.

"Hey gorgeous." Some skank with barely enough material to cover her tits, waves at him. Disheveled, stringy blonde hair swept back from the sweat coating her forehead, she licks her dry lips. "Dance with me."

He shoulders past her. "Pass."

She laughs, loud and raw in his ear. "Your loss."

"Yeah, sure." A loss alright. All the diseases he won't catch, what a shame.

Goddamn Harper, this is all his fault. A place like this, these people, it's all so damn disgusting. Jason likes sex as much as the next guy, but this is deplorable on so many levels. Someone grabs his ass, the seventh time in the last fucking hour alone. He would kill Roy when this is over, that was for damn sure.

The bathroom calls to him, only because it's slightly less crowded than where he is now. He ducks in before another drunk asshole offers him more than a quick fondle that will ultimately earn them a broken nose. He needs a minuet to breathe.

The cold water feels like heaven against his hot, sticky face. He wipes the remaining drops with the sleeve of his jacket. Towels litter the floor, but seeing as there the only ones available, he's not too keen on using them. The air is horrid, smelling mostly of piss and other things he doesn't want to think about. The lone stall rocks with moans and sounds that can only mean one thing, and it 'aint playing patty-cake.

A guy shoves next to him rudely to wash his hands. He talks into a phone angrily. His face looks like it's taken one too many beatings from the ugly stick. "Whatever. Just make sure everything happens and it happens right. No hitches this time, understand?" He stops to roll up his sleeves, showcasing a rather expensive watch before he turns to Jason. Where his brows would be, if he had any, raise and he looks more than a little annoyed. "You got a problem pal?"

Jason shakes his head. "Not if you don't."

The guy gives an agitated growl. He skips the hand washing after he looks at his watch. He manhandles Jason out the way, like he's suddenly late. "Then get out of my fucking way."

"Hey man, fuck you."

But he's already gone.

"Prick."

Jason leaves the bathroom in an even worse mood than before. He really wants to find Roy and get the hell out of here, now. He's assaulted by more people as he merges back in. He pushes them away but no one seems to get the hint to just leave him the fuck alone.

"Tease." A particularly pushy guy pouts at him. Jason slaps his hands away for the third time.

"Get away, I'm just looking for someone." He growls.

"Well I've been looking for someone all night, babe." The guy winks. His face glistens with glitter. "You."

"Sorry pal, you're not quite my type."

The glittering asshole doesn't quit. "Ah, don't be like that baby. Trust me, I can be whatever type you want me to be."

Jason's about to lose it, right in the middle of the dance floor, in front of everyone, when another guy comes up behind Mr. touchy and clasps his shoulder. "Leave him alone, Tink."

"But Dick.."

"You heard him, he's already got someone." The new guy, Dick looks at Jason with a small smirk. "Right?"

Jason nods. "Right."

"Can't blame a girl for trying." Tink turns and waves. "Tell him, he's one lucky man." He calls before disappearing back into the masses.

What the hell? Who the hell said it was a he?

"Tink just assumes, hopes actually, that every good-looking guy he meets is gay."

Had Jason asked that aloud? He certainly hadn't meant to. But while he's on the topic. "What the hell kind of name is Tink anyway?"

Dick laughs. "Short for Tinkerbell."

Jason turns to him. "Tinkerbell?"

He receives a shrug. "He likes it."

Jason's tries to hide his disgust. "And what about Dick, huh? What the hell is that? Some kind of sexual thing?"

Dick shakes his head. His dark hair falls across his forehead and flies with the motion. "No sadly. Nothing creative, just short for Richard."

"..and you went with Dick?"

Dick smiles. "Blame my parents. They started calling me that when I was little and it just kind of stuck."

Now Jason feels a little like an ass. "Well thanks Dick, but I..."

"You were looking for someone?" Dick's eyes shine a brilliant shade against the lights behind him. He catches Jason with his stare. It's nearly impossible to look away.

He swallows. "Yeah, I was...am."

Goddamn. Jason's not gay, never looked at a man twice before, but he can definitely appreciate an attractive person when he sees one. And Dick is incredibly attractive.

"Does this person have a name?" Dick asks.

"Yeah, dead meat."

Dick laughs. Jason can't help but smirk at the sound.

The speakers give a loud pop. The music stops and the lights dim. Gasps from all around fill the room.

Jason has a feeling that wasn't supposed to happen. "Not planned, I take it?"

Dick shakes his head, his brows furrow. "I don't think so. His eyes travel towards the only visible area in the front of the club."That's weird."He mumbles.

Jason follows his view, but doesn't see anything. Even after the music returns and the dancing resumes Dick still continues to stare at whatever he's found so interesting.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Nothing. Never mind." Dick smiles again and grabs his arm. "Come on, you came to dance, didn't you?"

Jason remains still, the hand burns against his skin. But it's not unpleasant. "Um, not really."

"It won't kill you to live a little.." Dick pauses. "I guess I never got your name."

"Jason."

"Well Jason," Dick leans up to whisper in his ear. Jason shivers against the heat. "Dance with me."

Jason's not a dancer. He tries to shake his head, but Dick's already got his arms wrapped around his neck and damn his touch is electric. Dick starts to move and the music suddenly drowns to a dull roar in his ears. Everything melts to the color of red and all he can see, all he can feel is Dick. Dick's hands are in his hair, on his chest, all over his damn body. He moves like a curve of light, so bright and fast, yet slow and deliberate. Bright and so goddamn beautiful.

"You like this?"

Jason licks his suddenly thirsty lips. He's not sure if it's a question, but he nods.

Dick smiles against his neck. "Good."

Jason continues to enjoy the feeling, the heat of the other man against him, right before Dick goes stock-still.

He looks down at him. "What, what's wrong?"

Dick hisses one word. "Duck."

"Wha.."

There's a large sound that sounds like glass shattering. Shards of it fall like jagged snow from the ceiling and all around them.

They fly. Dick throws Jason on top of him, taking most of the impact as they fall. Jason half rolls and lands on his feet just in time to see Dick throw himself into a crouch of his own. They can't see anything in the crowd of people, now running frantically towards the exit. Just an endless blur of color.

"Dammit." Dick says. He grabs Jason's hand and pulls him away from the stampede.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason can barely hear his own voice over the screams.

"A miscalculation." Dick yells.

"Miscalculation?"

Dick looks to the ceiling, where several of the skylights are now nothing but large, gaping holes. "Where is he?" He mumbles to himself.

Jason shakes his head. "Where is who?"

Dick doesn't answer, he motions Jason to follow him. "Come on, we have to get you out of here. It's not safe."

Glass continues to break under their feet as they make their way towards the back exit. Dick knows the way so Jason travels behind. They finally reach the door when they hear a gunshot from behind them. Jason starts out the exit, but Dick stops and turns. He looks like he's going to go back.

"What are you doing?" Jason calls.

Dick gives him a reassuring smile. "Go on without me."

"What? Why?" He asks. "You're not honestly going back in there, are you?"

Dick gives his hand a squeeze "Don't worry Jason, I'll be fine. Just go."

Fine? "Are you fucking insane?"

"Just go. I'll catch up later."

"Why?"

Dick's smile never falters. "Because I have to. People may still be in danger."

Jason considers him for a minuet. Who the hell are you he wants to ask. Instead he moves back inside. "Well fuck that. You're not going alone."

Dick's eyes widen. "Jason I..."

"There's not much point in arguing about it. We're wasting time here, let's go."

Dick nods. "Fine, but stay behind me, alright."

Not likely, he thinks. Dick's smaller than him, he's not letting the man be his shield. He doesn't need protection. They arrive in the cleared main dance hall, bar area. Jason didn't think he would ever see it look so empty. The only occupants are a group of men, real goon types with guns and some poor bastard pissing himself on the floor.

Dick motions him to stay low as they move behind part of the bar, hidden from view.

The main guy, the one that steps forward, sneers at the simpering man in his massive shadow. "Something wrong, Barker? You look a little worried."

"W..What do you want?" The man asks.

"Barker, Barker, Barker," Barker leans away as the man lightly smacks his face. "You disappoint me with your questions. I think you know what I want."

"I already gave your boss his cut, I don't have 'nothing else."

"Really, nothing else 'eh? Well that's a shame, cause I got orders, Barker." Glass cracks under the expensive boot as he steps further towards Barker. "And those orders are to get the damn money you owe, in any way necessary."

Jason gets his first good look at the man's face when he moves into the light. "Son of a bitch." He breathes. It was the fucker from the bathroom.

Dick turns. "What is it?"

He leans further towards Dick so he can whisper. "I've seen that prick before, talking on his phone in the bathroom. Motherfucker is a real piece of work. I don't think that guy's getting away with only a busted arm."

Dick nods. "I figured as much. Stay here."

"Wait..what?" But Dick's already gone. "Dammit." Jason leans his head out as much as he dares, but he doesn't see Dick anywhere. Where the hell did he go?

"Dick?" he whispers.

His sleeve catches on some of the tacky bullshit decorating the side of the bar. He pulls it out, but doing so cases the flimsy baseboard to shake. "Shit." An empty liquor bottle rolls from the top of the bar before it falls and shatters. He winces.

"What the hell was that?"

Smooth move, Todd, he scolds himself.

"Go check it out."

Fuck. Jason looks around for a weapon. He spots the broken bottle and grabs the neck, a bit primitive, but it'll have to do.

Footsteps head his way. He rolls his shoulders and waits.

The first bastard doesn't know what hits him. Jason slams his head directly into the bar above and he goes down like a ton of bricks.

"The fuck?" The next one doesn't stand a chance either. As soon as his ugly mug is in view Jason slugs him in the face. The guy stumbles before he falls over the side of the bar and knocks himself out cold.

It's the one Jason doesn't see, the one behind him with the gun aimed right at his head that makes him stop.

"Put your damn hands up or I'll blow your filthy head off."

Jason drops the bottle and does as he says. "Move." the guy commands.

Jason moves as he's directed. The big leader, the Big Ugly he'd say, looks at Jason with barely held contempt. His bulbous eyes widen. "The fuck? You?"

Jason smirks. "That's right ugly, me."

"Who the fuck are you?" Ugly turns the gun in his hand towards Barker. "Who the fuck is he? You know him? He your bodyguard or something?"

Barker's eyes bug as he shakes his head. "No, I swear I..I've never seen him before in my life!"

Ugly growls. "I thought you said this place was empty?"

The guy behind Jason speaks up. "It was..is, Max locked the doors and everything. After the gunshot we thought nobody would be stupid enough to stay in here."

"Obviously, you thought wrong." The gun barrel aims at Jason. "I'll ask you again. Who the hell are you?"

Something flies through the air. Make that two somethings. Both guns fly from their respected owner's hands. One lands on the other side of the room. The other gets kicked away. By Dick.

Jason gapes. "What the hell man? Where did you go?"

Dick doesn't respond. He stares at Big Ugly, looking like something the larger man might eat for breakfast. Ugly's scowl turns into a grin. "That's cute. Think I only carry one of these?" He pulls another gun from inside his suit jacket. He aims at Dick, but addresses Barker. "What about this little shit, you know him?"

"No I..." Barker stops and points. "Wait, I think he's been here a couple of times before. A friend of one of my sons. One of those boys Wayne took in. Can't remember the name."

Ugly's non eyebrow practically raises off his skull. "Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne?"

Dick doesn't flinch, but somehow Ugly reads his silence as admittance. It doesn't help when Barker nods. "Yeah, that's right."

Jason doesn't know much about Bruce Wayne, only that he's richer than god with a bigger love of woman than his own multi-billion dollar corporation. Judging by the size of Ugly's grin, this news has the potential of being very dangerous.

"Yes, I see it now. I think I saw you on the news once. Wayne's little pretty boy." Ugly's grin turns positively lethal. It's obvious he's thinking and plotting something. And it's not good. "Well Barker, I believe I feel your luck changing, old boy. Turns out you've been offered a slight extension on you bill."

"But my nightclub, you've ruined it." Jason's almost glad when Ugly backhands the sniveling asshole in the face. Baker squeals like a pig.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm giving you some time, dipshit. If I was you I'd take it with little more gratitude." His grey eyes rove up and down Dick. Jason feels dirty just watching him. "What you've given me is worth more than your meager nickle and dime show. Much more."

Barker realizes what he's done by opening his big mouth. "Wait I didn't.." but it's too little, too late.

"I'm being generous Barker. I don't do generous. Remember that the next time you open your goddamn mouth."

Barker's eyes fall to the floor. He cowers, like the coward that he is. Jason isn't sure who he wants to deck more, Barker or Ugly.

Ugly sweeps back some of his greasy hair back. "Good man."

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" The words fly out before Jason can stop them. Ugly is really starting to piss him off.

"Let's make it a new rule." Ugly twirls his gun. "The next idiot that says one more word gets their head blown off. Sound good?"

"Uh, boss." the last goon speaks just as soon as the sirens start. "We've got trouble."

Ugly doesn't look too worried. "Better wrap it up then, shall we?" He motions with one of his fingers.

Jason doesn't feel it, doesn't even realize what's happening until he falls to his knees and the world starts spinning. Dick yells something he can't hear and the world turns black.

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

Catch My Breath

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Chapter 2

* * *

Sirens, he wakes to the blare of sirens. Not far in the distance, not traveling to meet him, right above him. His ears ring with the overwhelming noise as voices, none he can immediately recognize, try to talk over one another. _Turn off the damn sirens_ he thinks. Before his head explodes.

"Well aren't those a nice pair of eyes to finally see opened."

He blinks and only sees white. Blinding and overwhelming of all other senses.

"Sorry, too bright?"

Something clicks and the light dims. An older woman's face filters into view. Her expression is kind as she peers down at him. Everything in and around him takes a minuet to focus properly. He realizes he's laying on something and it isn't all that comfortable, especially against his pounding head which sits in an incredible uncomfortable angle.

He grabs his forehead. "What happened? Where am I?" He pauses and tries to think. Something else, somebody else, there was somebody else. "Dick, where's Dick?"

The woman raises her hands. "Hold your roll there, cowboy. I'm gonna ask you a few questions first." She smiles at his look of confusion. "It's procedure, I have to make sure we're not looking at something more dangerous than just a simple head bump. My names Maria Trent, You remember yours?"

"Jason, Jason Todd." He feels like an idiot, like he's in school again.

Maria scribbles something down on her clipboard. "Know what today's date is, Jason?"

He thinks, his head pounds. "..Seventh of September."

"Good." Maria lays the board down. "You took a pretty bad blow to the head Mr. Todd, but you've only got yourself a minor concussion from the look of things. Consider yourself lucky, young man."

_Terrific._ "Can you tell me where I am now?" He tries not to sound too impatient.

"You're in an ambulance." He figures that. "Outside the Barker's Catch."

"Barker's Catch?" _That_ was the name of the nightclub. His nose twitches. The name seemed pretty fitting actually. "Pretty stupid name." He comments.

Maria giggles. "I couldn't agree more."

"What about Dick? Is he alright?"

"Sorry hun, that I don't know."

He sits up. The world seems a little unsteady, but he has to move. He feels claustrophobic in here. "I need to walk around, if that's alright."

Maria nods. "I think that will be fine. Just take it easy, okay stud?" He signs something and she points him to some guy he's supposed to talk to. He doesn't.

The scene is like something out of a movie. Yellow Police tape everywhere, men and women in uniforms spilling typical police jargon that Jason doesn't really care to listen to. He just wants to make sure Dick's okay. He doesn't know why, but he needs to find him and make sure.

"And that's when he hit me across the face. It was terrible!"

An especially bored looking cop nods. The man he's appeasing continues to rant and rave as he waves him arms dramatically. Jason immediately recognizes the voice and his blood boils. "You son of a bitch!"

Barker's eyes fill almost the entirety of his rat like face. "Oh, Christ, not you." He hides behind the cop. "Officer keep this man away from me. He's crazy."

"Crazy? I'll show you crazy, you piece of shit." Jason doesn't care that people are staring, no one stops him and the cop, Officer Stentson according to his badge, doesn't look like he's done much of _anything_ in the last twenty years, he's certainly not detaining Jason. He might break a sweat.

"Sir, please calm down." Stentson drones.

"I am calm." Jason points at Barker. "This motherfucker here endangered innocent lives because of his own money problems. He's involved in some pretty deep shit and obviously in way over his head so he throws the one person who was actually trying to help his sorry ass up the river to save himself." He wants to spit, he's so disgusted.

Barker shakes his head. "Not on purpose, I promise it wasn't."

"Doesn't change anything." Cowardice is still cowardice.

Stentson looks like he wants his coffee break. "We're already investigating that. And the person you're referring to, you know their name?"

"Di...Richard.." Jason pauses, the pain in his head is really killing him. "I don't know his last name."

"Grayson."

Jason shrugs. The name seemed as good as any. "I guess."

Stetson smacks his lips. "Then I have to congratulate you, sir. You're now officially a witness in a missing person's case."

Jason stares at him. "Missing? What the hell do you mean, missing?"

Stetson sighs, all this talking seems like a strain on him. "I mean as in not here. Gone. Taken."

"I know what it _means. _Wait, you're telling me," He turns on Barker. The man shrinks back at his glare. "That y_ou_ actually let that slimy bastard just take him? What the hell is wrong with you.?"

Barker flinches and takes another step back. "Wh..what else was I supposed to do?"

His pathetic tone only pisses Jason off more. "Grow a pair for once in your life and think about someone other than yourself, asshole."

"I.."

Stentson stops them both with an aggravated sigh. "Dammit kid." Jason first thinks he's talking to him, but Stentson's back is to them and he's calling across the way. "I said no more pictures."

The kid Jason hadn't noticed before puts his camera down. Half his face is covered in a red scarf and he looks sheepish when he tussles his dark hair in an apologetic way. "Sorry." He calls. He may look sorry, but something about the way he says it seems like an act, at least partly. The kid obviously knows he shouldn't be taking pictures. Stetson looks like he wants the wring the kids neck, this isn't the first time he's been told.

"And I thought _Wayne_ was bad, damn kid should just go home already." Stetson mutters to himself.

The kid isn't actually starring, but Jason still gets the feeling that he's _looking_ at him. He's got a real weird vibe and hiding half his face with a scarf _yeah_, that's even weirder. "Who is he?" He asks Stetson.

Stetson shrugs and fingers a stain on his uniform shirt. "Apparently he's the victim's brother. Although I'd call him a pain in the ass personally. Been taking pictures and playing detective, we've thrown him out for disturbing evidence twice already."

Jason ears perk at this. Dick's brother, huh? Interesting. He stares at the kid again, he looks about in his mid teens. "Do you think I could talk to him?"

Stetson yawns, looking more than ready for his coffee break. "You can try, if you really want to."

Barkers makes an irritated snort. "Hold on a second. You're just going to let this loose cannon go? After the things he said to me?" He shakes his finger, looking every bit like the snake he is. "There are laws against this you know." He hisses.

"Yeah well, call your lawyer then. We're done here." Stetson says before walking away. Barker looks at Jason for about two seconds before he follows, figuring it's probably safer. Jason nods at him before he can look away. A promise he isn't done with him. Barker knocks his knees and almost trips in his haste to get away.

The red and blue lights cast shadows against the pavement. Jason watches the building behind him, taking in how much worse it looks now, sectioned off, almost like the scene of a homicide. He gulps, it was a closer truth than he liked to admit. He finally moves under part of the caution tape and towards the kid with the camera.

He doesn't realize how awkward this will be until he's already there. After all, its not like he actually knows this kid. He waves to catch his attention. "Um..hey."

The kid doesn't look up from his camera. "Can I help you?" He asks.

Jason watches him press buttons with rapid succession, doing what he has no clue. "The cop said you where Dick's brother, is that true?"

Blue eyes peer at him from under the fringe of black hair. They're not exactly as blue as Dick's, but they're definitely still intense, searching. He looks like he's probably from Gotham, just like Jason. Nothing at all exotic, like Dick. He's too pale and almost petite, not girly, but certainly not big by any means. No way is he a blood relative, at least not fully.

"Who wants to know?"

Jason almost smirks. The kid tries to sound at least a foot taller than he is, it's precious. "Me actually. I was wondering if you knew anything about what could have happened to him." He makes a point of looking at the camera. "You seem pretty well-informed."

The kid's eyes drop. He chews his lip and looks back to Jason. He removes the scarf and Jason can see his frown. "I was watching your show over there. It was pretty intense, to say the least." His gaze hardens. "Exactly how_ well _do you know Dick?"

If he's insinuating something, Jason's not admitting to anything. Not that there's anything to admit _to _in the first place. "It's not like that, okay. He just seems like a nice guy and I'm worried about him."

The kid doesn't look convinced.

"Seriously, he was trying to help that bastard and it..I don't know, people don't do that. Not in Gotham anyway." Jason's been here too long to know that. "Unless it's that guy in tights, Batman." Even he seemed to have his own agenda. He shakes his head. "..Dick just felt so, genuine." He laughs, thinking on the subject of Batman. "I guess we could call him, huh? Think he'd help, the Batman?"

He'd meant it as a joke, but the kid looks stone-faced, almost angry. "I doubt it."

"Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty to say such things, Tim." A large hand falls on the kid's shoulders.

Jason presumes a lot of things when he thinks of seeing Bruce Wayne face to face. It's not like the man's face is a mystery, plastered on news channels and such. Rich, well styled in the latest fashions and with a million-make that-billion dollar smile that could make any reasonable minded person swoon, Jason expects all that. He just doesn't expect him to be so..big. It's not just physical either, his mere presence seems to fill the entire air around them. It's unlike anything Jason's ever felt before.

Jason's not at all small, but even he feels dwarfed in comparison to the hand that offers to shake his.

"I heard you were quite the hero yourself." The man introduces himself. "Bruce Wayne."

Jason takes the hand, with no small amount of shock. "Jason Todd. Sorry Mr. Wayne, but you've been misinformed. I'm no hero. In fact, Dick's probably in this position _because_ of me."

Bruce's handsome face doesn't lose its smile. It's even brighter in person. "It's just Bruce and no Jason I don't think I've been misinformed at all. You sounded pretty brave to me."

The compliment is misplaced and embarrassingly untrue. He hadn't been brave at all. He'd gotten his ass knocked out. "Yeah well, look were that got me. Dick's gone now because of my stupid mistake."

Bruce considers him with a keen eye. "I don't think that's entirely true."

Another man Jason vaguely recognizes steps forward. His trench coat is as sharp as the lines in his face. He looks tired and way too worn out to be out this time of night. His eyes are full of a heavy sadness that seems out-of-place for a cop.

"Commissioner." Bruce offers him a hand.

The commissioner nods. "Bruce." He gives a small, sad smile. "We never seem to stop meeting like this, do we?"

Commissioner Gordon, that was it. Jason remembered his name from the news. He looks ragged, much older in real life.

Bruce offers a smile of his own. "Doesn't seem like it ever stops, does it?"

"No." Gordon sighs tiredly. "I'm having that creep Barker investigated, I'm sure we'll find a track record on him a mile long. Guys shifty and I'm pretty sure he's hiding more than one skeleton in his closet."

"Wouldn't be the first business man in Gotham with one." Bruce agrees.

"Just sorry it had to be Dick though, he's a good kid." Gordon adjusts his glasses. "Haven't seen much of him around here now that I think about it. He been hitting a lot of the party scene? Never thought he seemed the type."

Bruce laughs, it sounds a little forced. "You remember that age don't you, Jim? He's finding himself, just like we all were. I may not agree with his methods sometimes, but like you said, he's a good kid."

Gordon gives a cough. "I guess so. They just grow up so damn fast."

"Isn't that the truth." Bruce responds.

Gordon looks like he'd rather be somewhere else. "Actually Bruce, I came here to talk to this young man." He motions to Jason. "He's a prime witness, only one we got besides Barker."

Seeing a man with a badge and a gun recalls a feeling Jason doesn't like to remember. Too many rides in the back of armored cars, too many stays behind bars, usually days at a time. Too many wasted days doing stupid shit.

Bruce puts a hand on Jason's shoulder. Something about his grip, it means more than a simple squeeze. "Jason's definitely a hero in this Jim, but.." His eyes flash meaningfully towards Jason's. "..he doesn't really remember much. He hit his head pretty hard."

Gordon nods. "So I heard. but I thought he might remember at least something.."

Jason doesn't know if lying to the law is such a good idea, but it really isn't the first time. "Sorry. I really don't remember anything I haven't already said."

Bruce steps in. "I think the poor kid's been through enough. He was complaining of a headache. I don't think it would be wise to push him much further."

Jason nods, hoping that it will get Gordon away faster. He doesn't want to talk to anymore Police.

"Alright son, I understand." Gordon sounds disappointed. "I'll let you know if we find anything Bruce."

"Can't ask for anything more. Thanks Jim."

Gordon leaves back towards the crime scene. Jason can only think about how _bizarre_ that just was. And why Bruce was trying to make him lie to the law.

Tim clears his throat. "Bruce, I think we've got about all we're going to get here. We should, maybe go _home_. I expect we can do more _there_."

He sounds so casual about it, but Jason can see that Tim's worried, almost antsy to get out of here.

"Maybe I can help." The words tumble out before Jason can stop them. He truthfully doesn't know why he said them, but he can't think of anything else _to_ say. The offer seems pointless, but he doesn't want to _not_ do anything either. The reality is that he does feel responsible and the idea that Dick could get hurt or worse because of his carelessness eats him up.

His curiosity has peeked as well. Bruce Wayne is becoming a bit more interesting and Jason wants to help _him_ find Dick. Although, he can't explain _why_.

"I don't think that's a very good idea." Tim starts.

Bruce, however doesn't seem so hasty. "I disagree, Jason. I think maybe you could be of some help." He touches Tim's shoulder again, this time with a secret meaning that only they share.

Tim still looks unsure, but finally nods. "Fine."

"Tell me Jason how does taking a little ride back to my place sound? I can have Alfred whip up some late night snacks while we talk a bit more privately."

Jason doesn't expect the offer and is even more surprised when he takes it. "Yeah okay." He pauses. "On second thought, I think I'm supposed to fill out some more paperwork or something before I can leave."

Bruce waves the idea away, like it's beneath him to think of simple things like paperwork. "I'll have it taken care of."

Can he do that? Jason's not sure, but if so, it must be nice. "Okay, I'm game then. I guess."

They walk towards the nicest, shiniest car Jason thinks he's ever seen. He gives a low whistles at the amazing details put into the exterior and can only imagine the interior is even nicer. Then he realizes it's a sports-car and only has two seats. "Um.."

The issue resolves itself pretty quickly. Tim walks to an equally impressive looking bike, souped up to the max. Typical rich kid. He starts it up and puts his helmet on. "Meet you there." He says before closing the face shield and taking off.

"Is he even old enough to drive?"

Bruce just laughs. ''Come on, let's go."

* * *

Wayne Manor is huge.

Jason tries to take in the vastness of everything around him without looking like a gaping idiot. The place is just so huge, absolutely massive. He's never been in anything so grand, so full of history. The ceiling is so high he can barely see the top of it. Each room seems bigger than the last. The carpet under his feet feels old but he can't see a speck of dirt on it anywhere. The interior is immaculate, how many servants did it take to run a place like this? The building definitely has a history, a past, but it's well-kept and he feels strange even stepping foot in such a place.

He's heard the rumors, who in Gotham hasn't? The eccentric, billionaire orphan with too much money and a deep love, some would even say _obsession_, for his murdered parents. People said Wayne used his fortune frivolously, but what else did they expect? Bruce was reasonably young, good-looking and handed a golden spoon since the day he was born. Money and power, it's all the guy knows.

A giant portrait of what Jason assumes are Bruce's parents hangs in the first room they enter, vivid as any picture but painted in oil. How could anyone forget such a tragic thing with a giant remembrance of the ones you couldn't save right on the wall, always staring at you. Jason would cut his own wrist before putting up a picture like that of _his_ parents, but he couldn't be blamed for thinking like that. Him and Bruce, they came from two different worlds.

Bruce gives a small tour, most of it leaves Jason's mind as soon as it enters. There's just too much to take, too much to see. He'll never remember any of it, probably won't even remember where the front door is. They finally settle into a sitting room, one of many. Room might be a relative term to describe it, the _room_ is worth at least three in size.

"You like it?" Bruce asks as he removes his coat.

"It's.." Jason grasps for a proper word. Ever word that comes to him falls short. "..big."

Bruce hands the coat to the Butler with a laugh. "Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you Alfred." He addresses Jason. "Make yourself at home. I'll return shortly." He turns and leaves out the giant doors.

Alfred places down a plate of cookies and some milk. Jason stares at them oddly. Cookies and milk? Bruce wasn't kidding about a snack, but didn't this seem a tad bit childish?

Tim answers his question when he grabs one. They're for _him_. "Don't you dare diss Alfred's cookies." He threatens over a mouthful. With the giant glass of milk in front of him, he looks like a five-year old at snack time.

Jason wants to comment on this, but holds his tongue. He is a guest here, after all. He takes one and surprisingly finds it might be the most delicious cookie he's ever had. He's got to hand it to Tim. "Touche, kid."

"Master Timothy, I believe you should limit yourself. Remember what happened the last time you ate a whole plate of those by yourself?" Alfred reminds in an uppity, British accent. "You made yourself quite sick, as I recall."

Tim huffs. He just takes another bite and mumbles something about a stomach flu.

Jason likes Alfred already. Mostly because he insist on calling everyone _Master_, including Jason. He can honestly say nobody has ever called him that before and for good reason. The old man doesn't look like he takes much crap from anybody and his cookies are pretty damn good too. Jason takes another bite, but his stomach starts to sour after a few more. Dick, they need to work on helping Dick, not eating damn cookies. He puts the rest of it back on the plate and moves to stand by one of the windows.

He can't really see the outside grounds too well, it's too dark outside, but figures they're just as grand as everything else. So far he hasn't seen any more staff, but he knows that Alfred can't be all there is. No way in hell could one man take care of this mammoth sized place alone. Especially one lone _old_ butler.

His thoughts scatter when he hears something..buzzing? He searches for the sound and realizes after looking down, the sound is from him. More accurately, his phone. He pulls the device from his pocket and right up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Shit, Todd is that you? I just saw it on the news man. You okay?"

Fucking Harper, a day late and a dollar short, as usual. At least Roy sounds somewhat sober. "Yeah, I'm fine." Hold on. "The news, what do you mean you saw it on the news? Weren't you there?"

"Jesus Todd, I left that dump about two hours before that shit man."

Jason wants to pound the window. "So I was looking for your sorry, coked up ass for _two hours, _for no reason?"

Roy muffles the phone, but Jason can still hear that he's not alone. The voice definitely sounds female.

"Please tell me you aren't doing what I think you're doing."

"No man, not anymore."

"Goddammit Roy." He hisses the words, realizing he might be too loud. "You really know how to be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Jesus what crawled up your vagina? I was just making sure you were okay."

"Next time how about you don't take off and not tell me about it, so I don't wander around on my own looking like an asshole."

"That was the point." Roy sniffs and laughs. "And you are an asshole."

"What was the point?"

"To have fun. I don't know, get laid. Christ knows after that last bitch, you need it."

Of all the people Jason could imagine dealing dating advice, Roy Harper was not one of them. Maybe he's not as sober as Jason had thought. "Go drink some coffee Roy and don't call me for a while, alright?"

"Whatever, see if I care what happens to you anymore. Prick." Roy hangs up.

"Why start now?" Jason muses. Roy really seemed worried, which was pretty unlike him. Not that he wasn't still an asshole.

It was a thought he hadn't considered. If they had left earlier, the club would still have been attacked. What would have happened to Dick then? If he hadn't helped Jason, would he actually have gotten away unscathed? The different options arrange themselves, but Jason really has no clue how it would have ended, either way.

"Something wrong?"

Bruce's voice is close, way too close. Jason doesn't immediately shit himself, but the deep sound is enough to scare him into a thick gulp. He finds his voice and is just happy it doesn't shake. "Not really, I just hate waiting around, not being able to do anything, you know?"

Bruce nods and stands beside him, watching his reflection, but clearly somewhere else. Something feels different about him. "We just have to be patient."

Patient? Jason doesn't know what he means by that. He nods anyway. "Yeah, I'm not very good at that, being patient." He admits.

Bruce nods again with the shadow of a smile. "I figured as much."

Something's been bothering Jason for a while. He doesn't want to out and ask, but he has to know. "Does Dick normally do things like this?"

Bruce turns to him, a well-groomed eyebrow raises. "Do things like what?"

Jason fiddles with his jacket sleeve. Bruce's eyes are immovable against his. "Helping people he doesn't know just because..it's the right thing to do. Seems pretty reckless to me."

Bruce's eyes soften. "Dick's always been reckless. He's got a big heart and sometimes he forgets that can be seen as weakness. Exploited even."

Jason nods. "Yeah like that Barker prick, throwing your name around to save his own pathetic ass."

Bruce sighs. "Unfortunately most people don't have the courage to stand up and do the right thing when it comes down to it. Man is a truly selfish being."

It feels like a pretty prolific and personal statement. Jason watches one of the lights flicker. He hesitates on his next thought before he has the courage to say it. "I..I think Dick knew something was going to happen."

He's thought about it. The way Dick was acting, it wasn't completely normal.

Bruce puts his hand in his pocket. "How's that?" His tone gets, Jason can't really describe it properly, _darker _somehow.

He wonders if he shouldn't keep quiet. Maybe Dick was hiding a secret life from Bruce or something? If so, Jason would hate outing him to his adopted father over some stupid hunch. Unfortunately, it's a chance he's got to take. "He was just.. I don't know. Barker said he'd seen him in there a couple of times. That Dick was friends with his son. Dick..he had a gun in his face and never once looked scared, _shaken_, nothing." Jason was piecing these things together and it just wasn't adding up.

"I think you're reading too much into it." Tim says from the corner. He counts the facts on his fingers. "Dick has a lot of friends. He enjoys going to clubs, socializing, dancing and such. I doubt it was planned, just a case of really bad timing. Nothing more."

The answer feels like a brush off. Something in the matter of fact rebuttal is. forced and _wrong_. Jason doesn't believe a word of it and he's pretty sure Tim _knows_ that.

He's not going to play dumb just because Tim's a kid. "Sure didn't seem like it." He counters.

Tim looks over him to Bruce. The two share another secret moment that Jason knows means more than outside appearances would show. He's missing something important.

Jason continues. "He disarmed two guys like it was nothing, he even had some kind of..throwing stars or something, like ninjas have. Isn't that a bit strange?"

"Maybe it was a trick of the..."

"I know what I saw."

Tim steps back, like he's been physically hit. He looks both unsure and irritated. "I knew this was a bad idea." He mutters.

Jason has no clue what the hell _that _even means. A bad idea? He's starting to thing this _whole_ thing is a bad idea.

Bruce studies them both before returning his gaze back to the window. He exhales deeply. "Did you see the man's face?"

Jason blinks. "The man's face?"

"The one responsible for this. Did you see his face?"

Jason's eyes narrow, recalling the image of that ugly man's face to his mind makes his skin crawl. That pathetic grin is one he'd like to bust up beyond recognition. "I couldn't forget that ugly son of a bitch's mug if I tried." He all but spits.

Bruce's eyes blaze a deep blue. "Good."

The strange answer has Jason even more confused. "What?

Bruce doesn't respond. He appears pensive, but his mind is clearly in motion. His sharp eyes move in quick succession, like he's reading a book only he can see. When he finally speaks it's almost too deep to recognize. "Jason, I need you to do something for me."

"Um. Okay." Jason's more than lost by the sudden change. Again the light flickers.

Bruce turns to him. A giant against the window, a massive force Jason can't see past. Jason can barely breathe with the heaviness in his chest. What the hell was going on? Was this the real Bruce Wayne? False advertizing can only go so far. This was ridiculous.

Bruce's voice is as sharp as a knife. "I need to see what you can do. I need to see you fight."

* * *

TBC..


	3. Chapter 3

Catch My Breath

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

_See him fight_? Was Bruce serious?

What did fighting have to do with anything?

Maybe there was something in those cookies? Not that he'd seen Bruce eat any of them. Maybe _Jason_ was the one tripping? Was Alfred the good old butler with the impassive face trying to drug him?

_Christ_. What a thought.

"Um..Is that a joke?"

Bruce looks dead serious. His lips set in a hard-line. "I read your file. You were picked up several times for starting fights. Fights you apparently had no problem winning. Against any odds."

What the _hell_? Read his file, what the fuck did that _even_ mean? Did rich guys just have access to _anyone's_ files that they wanted? If so, when the hell had Bruce had time to do such a thing?

Jason turns away from the intensity that send chills down his spin. His voice drops. "That was a long time ago." Back when he'd been sent to Juvie for being under eighteen and it wasn't _that_ many times. "..and how did you even.."

Bruce cuts him off. "It's not important. I don't care when or even why you were fighting, but you're obviously good enough to take care of yourself."

This was getting just a tad too weird and way too personal. It was true, growing up on the streets tended to give someone the edge on knowing how to defend themselves, but why the hell Bruce _freaking_ Wayne would know or even care about that was beyond all kinds of weird.

"Like I said, that was a long time ago. Things are different now." _Sort of_. The truth was he hadn't been_ caught_ for anything in at least two years. Though hanging around people like Roy Harper probably wasn't the best idea for staying on the straight and narrow. But that was besides the point. "And that's a complete invasion of privacy."

Bruce nods. "It's a necessity." He explains.

Jason gapes. The admittance and reasoning, all with such stoicism, it's completely unreal. "You..seriously..just..what..necessity?" Jason doesn't even know what to say.

Bruce prompts him, raising two fingers. "Barker said you took down two men."

He nods, wondering what significance that held. Taking two idiots that probably couldn't tie their own shoelaces didn't exactly seem like bragging material to him. "Yeah but, that was..different I guess."

"No different from anytime else. You did what you had to. I want to see how just how capable you are."

Weird, this was getting way too weird. Using a word like _capable_ didn't make him feel any better either. Jason licks his lips. "Look I don't know what you're trying to pull, but this is getting a little weird man."

Tim watches from his spot atop the back of a chair. He shakes his head and the black shag of hair flies with it. "I knew it. This is a waste of time, Bruce. He just doesn't have it."

What, now the kid was baiting him too? "What the hell are you talking about, doesn't have _what_?"

Tim rests his chin in his hand, looking bored. "The drive, the passion." He shrugs. "You said you wanted to help Dick, but I guess you're really just all talk and nothing else."

That was completely unfair. This was just all a bit too bizarre..and why the hell was a kid using a word like passion? "Do you even know what that word means?"

Tim's eyes turn an icy blue. "I don't know tough guy, _do you_?"

"Tim that's enough." Bruce doesn't sound angry, more like an exasperated parent. "Jason, in order to trust you, I need to see your abilities."

Jason considers this, not that it really makes any damn sense any which way he looks at it. "And this will help save Dick?"

"I hope so."

Cryptic and not really the sort of answer he'd hoped for. But with Tim acting like a damn know-it-all and Bruce giving him the solemnest of faces, his options seem a bit limited. It was the first time he could honestly say he'd been _asked_ to fight and not just forced to.

"Fine."

Tim doesn't look impressed, his mouth ticks slightly to the side. He makes an annoyed sound and moves to get off the chair. Bruce stops him with his long reach and shakes his head. Tim looks confused, but after several moments, he nods and looks back at Jason with a frown.

So the big man was going to take him on himself? Fine. Wouldn't be the first time he's taken on someone larger that himself. Bruce had been right about one thing, Jason won his fights. He recalls the still sore spot on the back of his head. Most of them anyways. Taking down a rich, pretty boy like Wayne would be nothing.

"You're going to regret it." He promises.

Bruce smirks.

Then he _moves_.

Jason doesn't see it, he _feels_ it. That first punch breezes so close, so damn fast, it almost catches his ear. Jason's breath escapes in a loud gasp, he barely has time to think let alone move._ Jesus Christ. _His heart thumps in his chest and for a minuet it's all he can hear_._ Quick reflexes had just saved him a broken jaw. That just happened. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire had attacked him and nearly taken his face off.

Goddamn was this day just getting weirder and weirder.

He swears he hears Tim yawn, long and exaggerated. And sure enough he is, looking dispassionate, bored. The distraction takes a second too long of Jason's attention. Bruce moves again. This time the hit is even closer. How Jason manages a second evasion is nothing short of a miracle.

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He can't let himself get whooped by _richie richie_ because he's preoccupied elsewhere. Especially by little smarty pants in the corner. He has to keep focused.

Bruce might be built like a rock, but he moves with more speed and agility than Jason's seen in a long time, if ever. His hits are fluid almost like he doesn't need to use any actually muscle behind them. It seems as natural to him as breathing. Still, Jason knows those muscles aren't all for show. There's just as much power in those swings as a brick to the skull, he can feel it.

Dead on, the hits aim right at Jason, precise and on target. Bruce isn't playing around and if Jason isn't careful, he's going to get more than a simple headache for his troubles. He can't hold back. Hits continue to fly and while he blocks most of them, one or two finally catch him and he stumbles to the side to find his footing.

"Goddammit!" he hisses. He can taste blood in his mouth.

"Sloppy." Bruce deadpans.

Was the man trying to piss him off? If so, he was doing a hell of a job. "I'll show you sloppy, you.."

Bruce manages another hit using the disorientation and Jason wants to scream. Bruce sighs loudly as Jason holds his throbbing chin. "You have to pay attention, don't get caught off guard by anyone or _anything_. People will try to throw you off, don't let them."

Jason pants and raises a brow. Now he's giving tips? "Who are you, Mr. Miyagi?"

Bruce doesn't laugh or even smile, he strikes. Again. Jason blocks him and even manages to throw him back a couple of steps. Right into a rather expensive looking vase. Bruce ignores the mess and nods at the advance. "Better."

Jason takes this with perhaps a bit more pride than he probably should. It's been awhile, but he can feel the natural instinct ingrained at him in an early age slowly returning. The instinct to survive. He fakes a punch that Bruce may or may not see coming, but uses the distraction to make his real move. Bruce actually looks impressed when he manages a hit.

The victory is short-lived. Bruce sweeps his legs and Jason falls like a house of cards. His back hits the floor and just as the stars clear he manages to flip himself upright. He stumbles but maintains the ability to stay on his feet. Even though Bruce is strong and fast as fucking hell, Jason still has the feeling he's holding back. Big time.

The idea is both frightening and a bit insulting.

"You're playing with me." He accuses.

Bruce doesn't deny it. "You're reckless, you need more control." He answers. "You need training."

Jason has nothing to say to that, he just keeps breathing. Hard and way too fast.

Tim flips off the chair and crosses his arms. He stands in front of Bruce. Apparently the spar or _whatever_ is over. "We don't have time for that Bruce. Dick may already be.."

Bruce stops him. "I doubt it. Something tells me money is a factor in this." He addresses Jason, not even slightly out of breath. "You said Barker used my name, right?"

Jason nods. "Yeah, he did."

"Then he won't do anything to jeopardize his chance at a ransom. Not yet."

Tim blinks. "So, we wait for a ransom?"

There's something darker in Bruce's eyes. His gaze seems far off, distant. "No, no we don't."

"Then what?" Tim chews his lip. Jason wonders the same thing.

"What you said about helping, have you changed your mind?" Bruce asks Jason.

Jason considers this, not that there really is much to consider. His fingers itch and his heartbeat quickens at the thought. He feels almost.._excited_ seems a bit strong, but he feels suddenly _alive_. Even if his ass had just been handed to him. "I already told you I would."

Bruce rubs his chin, clearly deep in thought. Tim looks at him with unreadable eyes. "Do you really think it's a good idea? I mean he's not exactly.."

"It's the only one we have."

Tim purses his lips, like he wants to disagree. Bruce removes a wrinkle from his ridiculously expensive looking shirt, slowly and carefully. "Can I trust you with a secret, Jason?"

Another secret? There was more than the fighting and the illegal file hacking? Jason nods, wondering if he'll live to regret it. "Sure."

"Good. Follow me."

Jason does, but can't shake the feeling he may be making a huge mistake.

* * *

"It's a clock."

"Did it take every brain cell you have to make that brilliant observation?" Tim gripes irritably.

Jason turns on the shorter boy. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

Tim twitches and crosses his arms. "You."

Jason really feels the annoyance is misplaced. It's not like Jason has done anything to Tim personally. Still, the attitude is kind of pissing him off. "You aren't exactly topping my list right now either, kid."

"Enough." Bruce commands. It's almost a growl. They both shut up. "Not all things are what they at first seem." He informs Jason a little softer.

"Right. Sure." Jason's not sure what else to say. All he sees is a clock.

Bruce hits something and the clock raises completely up. A large entryway stands in its place. Jason's brow raises. That was..different. The hole clearly leads somewhere, and the first thought that pops into Jason's head is a dungeon. The house was old and mysterious, after all. Suddenly, he's not sure he wants to know or see what Bruce wants to show him.

"Um, we're not seriously entering a strange hole in the wall, are we?"

But he's talking to Bruce's back. Tim snickers behind him. "What, you scared?"

_Yeah right._ "No."

He almost misses the first step and Tim laugh again. The short drop wasn't one he expected, but he finds his footing and balance right after. His heart thumps in his chest, but he pushes past the anxiety and continues further down. Into the darkness he can barely see through. Into his possible demise.

"Will you hurry up?" Tim pushes from behind.

"Will you _shut_ up?" He hisses back. "I can't see a damn thing."

His lack of sight quickly rectifies itself. A little too quickly, in fact. He barely has time to look away from the unexpected blazing light, hoping to spare his retinas from burning out his skull. He shields his eyes from the onslaught at the same time he realizes the floor is moving on its own. Several feet down, the light dims to a more tolerable level and he can actually see past a blinding white. That's when he realizes he must have somehow given himself brain damage along the way.

There's no other way to explain what he's seeing. Or at least what he _thinks_ he's seeing.

His feet hit the ground, but his head, his ability to think straight, stays somewhere he can't seem to reach. Way above in the depths of time and space. There is no way any of this is real.

It's a, he searches for the right word, _cave_. What the hell was a billionaire doing with a fully accessible _cave_ underneath his house? A cave with computers, devices and other things Jason can't name, but look equally as impressive. Technology that he's pretty sure no average man should have. And there's the bats, goddamn bats everywhere.

Bats, Jason really hates them. Creepy, ugly little bastards. Several fly past his head and he watches them swarm back to their original hiding spots, high in the darkness. He sweeps the area with his hands then his gaze making sure there aren't any more coming at him. He swears he feels them, that there are some stuck in his hair, but knows it's only in his mind. His gaze does catch something on the second sweep, something he doesn't know how he missed. Something shiny. He takes a double look. _No_, not just something shiny.

Something shiny, black and shaped awfully like a..

Car...the car? Was that the..?

"Figured it out yet?" Tim asks with a smirk.

Things start to add up and fall apart at the same time. Bruce's words return. N_othing_ is what it seems, apparently. Certainly not one seemingly normal billionaire.

"You're Batman?" It's half a question, half an accusation.

Bruce doesn't nod, doesn't answer in any way. He doesn't have to. The car, the damn bats, it's all the answer Jason needs.

Batman? He never would have guessed. And if Bruce was Batman...

"Who does that make you? The bird right?" He snaps his fingers. "Pigeon boy?"

Tim's smirk drops. "It's _Robin_."

Jason laughs harshly. "Of course. _Big_ difference."

So Bruce is Batman, Tim is Robin. That's completely normal and okay, right?

"I'm sorry Jason, but I don't have time for you to wrap your head around this. We just don't have time for explanations."

Bruce is right, not that Jason doesn't have a list of questions longer than both his arms. "Who needs explanations? This is.." He looks around and the things he sees just continue to get stranger. "This is cool. A man who runs around in tights and a kid with little green panties, perfectly normal." He knows he's rambling but his brain is in overload right now.

Tim gives an annoyed snort. "That was Dick. I have a pair of pants, thank you very much."

Dick? Jason doesn't know what the hell to do with that thought. Dick and panties. "Right, okay." He nods and keeps nodding.

Tim sighs. "I think we broke him, Bruce."

"He'll be fine." Bruce assures him. He starts tapping away at one of the computers.

Presumptuous and completely unconcerned about what was going on here around them. Did he not realize that this was weird? Really, really weird? Apparently not. Eccentric may have been a vast understatement, Bruce Wayne was something else entirely.

"I'm right here and I am fine, I mean give me a break. This, excuse me..but this is some serious shit."

"Such eloquence." Tim mumbles.

"Seriously, why, why show me this?"

Bruce watches the screen as he answers. "You wanted to help, right?"

"Yeah, but.."

Bruce cuts him off. "Potential isn't hard to spot, Jason. You have too much of it to waste on the way you're living now. With training you could do more, be more."

Jason rubs at his arms, not really cold, but uncomfortable none the less. "Okay, I'm going to pretend that was supposed to be a compliment."

"And if you ever decide to spill our little secret." Bruce hits a key and the screen jumps to life. "I'll just have to take care of _that_."

"Okay, that definitely sounded like a.."

Bruce presses another button. "Good."

Whether he's talking to the computer or Jason is never answered. Tim perks up when he see whatever Bruce is looking at. "Any luck?"

"Yes. It appears the tracker is still functioning. I've pinpointed Dick's exact location."

"It's a start. Where is it?" Tim asks.

Bruce rubs at the bridge of his nose. He uses the map on the screen in a showy flash of maximizing the area that flashes green. "The abandoned district, by the river." He murmurs. "What's there?"

Jason observes the map, he knows that area all too well. Both Bruce and Tim study the map intently and he jumps in, hoping his knowledge will be seen as helpful. "I used to live near that district. The place is old, but freaking huge. Lots of nooks and crannys, I used to play there as a kid. It was great for hide and seek. Kind of seems obvious that Big _Ugly_ would pick a place like that."

Tim raises a brow."Big Ugly?"

Jason smirks. "Trust me, when you see that mug you'll have nothing else to call it. But at least we've got Dick's location so.."

The computer gives a loud click. They all stare at the screen where an unexpected glitch makes the bright light that is Dick's locator dim, give two blips and finally die out. Jason waits, but the signal doesn't return. Tim glares at him, like it's somehow Jason's fault the machine crapped out. "I mean..err.." He points to the last point he'd seen the light. "That's..you can get that back, right?"

Bruce turns to Tim. Tim squints his eyes and nods. "Yeah, I got it."

Jason looks back to the screen. "Got it? Where?"

Tim points to his temple. "Here."

So he fancies himself a genius or something, well fine. Jason knows he couldn't remember something that quickly so if Tim could, more power to him.

"If it's a big as you say, we'll definitely have to be on our guard." Bruce says gravely.

Jason shrugs, it seems obvious to him. "That shouldn't be a problem. I mean you're Batman, right?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Yes, but being unprepared is just as dangerous as being overconfident."

Jason feels like that's a dig. He looks to Bruce and frowns, though in reality he's probably right. "So what then, the kid is your backup? No offense, but I don't think that will really send Ugly running for the hills. Especially if he's got more than a couple of goons with him. I doubt he travels alone."

Tim sneers testily. "I'm quite capable of.."

Bruce puts a calming hand on his back. "I know you are Tim, but he's right. Why not take all the help we can get?"

That really wasn't what he meant. Bruce gives a sly smile and Jason can't help the feeling that he's just trapped himself. "Why does it feel like I just volunteered for something I really didn't mean to?"

Tim still disagrees. "Bruce this is careless, we can do this without him." He must realize how harsh he sounds, the tone softens. "His intentions might be in the right place, but I don't think he's ready."

Something snaps within Jason. He really hates when people talk _about _him and not _to_ him. He moves closer to Tim and Bruce looks on with no small amount of interest. "If you're so concerned about my _carelessness_ then how about you show me your perfect ways, oh wisest of _sidekicks._"

Tim twitches angrily. "Why you.."

Bruce stays him with a calm wave of his hand. "It's not a bad idea."

Tim gapes. "What? Bruce have you.."

Bruce continues. "A spar might actually be helpful, but not right now. It's getting late and I don't think Dick will be in any more trouble if we rest for a while." He stops Jason's rebuttal before it starts. "You were right about Dick. He knows how to take care of himself. We'll go for him tomorrow, but we'll be useless if we're tired and unfocused."

Jason is positive the thought is more for _his_ benefit than either of them. A nice gesture considering all he's been through in the last twenty-four hours.

Tim looks at his watch. "Actually, it is tomorrow."

"_Shall I prepare a room then, sir_?" Alfred's distorted voice comes from somewhere above them. Jason's not sure he wants to know how or _how much_ he's heard.

Bruce hits a button on one of the many computers. "Yes Alfred, please."

"_Very good sir_."

"What?" Jason almost laughs. "You guys don't sleep in the cave?" Seems as logical as anything else at this point.

"Can't we just leave him outside, where he belongs?" Tim asks.

Jason shoots him a finger. "Watch it, bird boy. Or I'm gonna show you what I do to annoying little birds."

Tim barely blinks. "I'm shaking in my boots." He drawls.

Which reminds Jason. "If I'm going to do this, I'm letting you know now. I don't do tights."

Tim rolls his eyes.

* * *

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* * *

_Elsewhere..._

The air is cold, damp and dark. So dark he can barely see.

Something falls on his cheek.

..Water?

Dick sure hopes so.

A long line drips from the cracked ceiling above. Underground, they're definitely underground. The floor is uneven. It's hard not to stumble when they keep prodding him like that, over and over.

"Move it twerp." A voice behind him hisses. Hot air blows on his neck and he really wants to ask if flossing is part of a lackey's daily regimen. If not, as he suspects, it really should be.

Truth be told, the poor guy is probably a little sore at him. Dick supposes a kick or two to the face will do that. The bruise is pretty impressive, if he does say so himself. Too bad it lost Dick his shoes in the process. "You try walking down here barefoot, see how well you do." He quips.

The remark earns him a swift hit to the back of the head. He blinks away stars. It's the same spot every time. The lackey was aiming, because it's the same stinking spot and it's really starting to hurt.

"If you don't stop yapping, I'll rip your damn tongue out myself." The voice promises. The gun pushes its way further into his spine. Again he almost falls and his misstep lands him right into a giant, muddy puddle. _Great_. Now his jeans are even heavier and soiled on top of it. The added weight drags the hem under his feet and throws yet another obstacle in his attempt at walking. He figures he'll have more than enough bruises of his own at the end of this. Assuming he makes it that far.

No. They won't kill him. Not yet.

The guy in the front, the ape in the suit and tie,_ Montey_ they all seem to call him, he's got a plan. Dick can see it in his watery eyes. He's smelling money and the name Bruce Wayne is enough to make his swollen lips water. It's not something Dick ever means, but Bruce's money has a way of following him. No matter where he goes.

This thing, this _disaster_ he can't blame on Bruce's money or even Barker. This is his own fault, no doubt about it.

Tink was a worrier, always had been. After years at university together, Dick could tell when the man was being flamboyantly dramatic and when he was honestly worried. Barker's actions worried him. Tink's father, twisted as he was, was still a hero in the eyes of his son and Tink was understandably upset when he suspected Barker might be in some kind of trouble. Dick may have overshot himself, been unprepared and too emotionally involved, but Tink's worries had become his own. Sometimes that was all the reason it took. He can excuse the urge to help Tink as years of friendship, a desire to help a concerned friend in need. His distraction, his real blunder, had been much more simple._  
_

Jason. The guy in the leather jacket.

Where had his head been on that one? Certainly not on his shoulders. Dick may have played himself up a little too much, but he enjoyed seeing and_ feeling_ the larger man against him. Like always, it was the inability to know when to stop that had been Dick's undoing. Jason should have gotten out with everyone else, Dick never should have let him go back into the club, or put him in danger like that.

If something had happened to him, Dick would never be able forgive himself.

Another push sends him into a room. So far it's just been one long tunnel and actually seeing things like furniture, however crude, is somewhat of a strange sight. It looks like a renovated warehouse. Made to look more like a certain lounge Dick recalls, without the tables and such. Odder still is the man sitting at a large stone chair in the middle of it. Water pools in fountains behind him and the air is almost cold enough to be freezing.

It's not hard to tell how short the man in the chair actually is. His legs barely touch the ground. Dick would comment about the man's overly bird like appearance, but he doesn't have to. He knows this particular deformed face all too well.

"What?" The man squawks at the intrusion. He uses his single monocle to peer closer. His sharp teeth clench at what he sees. "What is this?" He demands.

"Cobblepot." Montey nods smugly. "I brought you something."

The lackey continues to steer Dick in the back until there right under the man's giant nose.

Cobblepot slams his signature umbrella at the arm of the chair. "I didn't ask for prisoners, you fool."

Montey tsks. Clearly that wasn't the reaction he'd expected. "But, you'll like this one.."

"My money." Cobblepot continues in a hiss. He points to the palm of his gloved hand. "Where's my money?"

"You'll be getting your money ten fold with this one. That I can promise you."

Cobblepot snorts. "I told you to get my money you idiot, nothing else." He struggles off his chair. He stands rather impressive, almost dignified, for a man of his stature.

"And you'll get it." Montey assures him.

"A rich notion, no doubt. And how do you dare presume such a thing?" He waves at Dick like he's a bug of some kind. "Who is he?"

Montey grins. "I'm sure you're familiar with the name Bruce Wayne."

Cobblepot's monocle nearly breaks at the strain of his disgust. "How dare you utter that name here. Who do you think brought me to such ruin? My beautiful lounge, everything I had, all gone! Now I'm forced to hide away in this dump, loaning the remains of my fortune to some lowlife and not even _getting_ my return. All thanks to him."

Dick doubts Bruce had that much to do with Cobblepot's fall. The man had probably done most of it himself. Gotten desperate when things started to turn and people were no longer interested in him or his assorted plans at political corruption and power.

"That Barker thinks he can keep that dump open? I'll ruin them both, him and Wayne."

"And that's why I said you'll like this." Montey promises.

"You'd better not be wasting my time or you'll be sorry." Cobblepot steers his good eye at Dick. He licks his thin purple lips. He props the umbrella under Dick's chin. "I know you." He murmurs. "You're the brat, Wayne's little brat." He nods to himself. "All grown up, I see."

"Glad to see you still remember me."

Cobblepot sneers. "And still as cheeky as ever." His twisted face squints as he peers at Dick further, iris roaming against the slight undertone of yellow surrounding it. He appears almost thoughtful. He chews the long cigarette holder in his mouth and after several long moments, he finally bares a smile. Twisted and evil. Some ash falls from his cigarette. He shakes it from the top of his boot and addresses Montey."Well I can't say you've done too bad here, old boy."

Montey puffs with pride. "I told you, Wayne will pay an arm and a..."

Cobblepot snaps. "No you imbecile, it's not just about money. Not entirely." He reverts to a surprisingly cordial tone. "You see my man, when I said I will ruin Wayne I _meant_ it. I've merely been looking for the right opportunity."

He snaps his fingers. Several men suited men, all vastly larger than Cobblepot, enter the room from the hidden door that opens from the side. "I'll take it from here."

Montey stalls. "But what about my cut..you said I would get my damn cut."

"You will. It was you who changed the rules Mr. Montey not me. I have a feeling a dear little bat friend of mine will come for this boy." Cobblepot sneers. "He always does."

Montey takes a step forward. "You mean Batman?"

Cobblepot sighs. "Keep up will you? Yes Batman, lumbering lout is always saving these Wayne kids. Only this time." His eyes shine. "We're going to make it worth his while."

Montey stares. "Wait you want Wayne to get him back, without a ransom?" He sounds appalled.

Cobblepot sighs in an exaggerated fashion. "Don't oversimplify a genius. There is more than one way to ruin someone. Money would be a nice compensation for my griefs, but there is something more important to people like Wayne than money."

Montey looks as confused as Dick feels. What is this madman going on about? Other ways to ruin someone..what did Cobblepot mean?

One of the men hands Cobblepot a vial of..Dick's not sure what. The squat man holds it upwards to get a better view of the contents. "I knew I kept theses babies for a reason. Old scarecrow's leftovers might just come in useful for once." He chuckles to himself then reverts his attention back towards his audience. "Do you want to know what people like Wayne thrive on more than the wealth and pleasures it brings?"

Montey shrugs, but he looks a bit put out, the prospect of money is quickly fading from his future. The lackey looks like he wants to make a run for it.

Cobblepot..no..The Peguin warks as he continues to laugh. His answer is unnaturally chipper. "Loyalty, my friend."

He stares at Dick now, twisted smile in tow. His face darkens.

"_Loyalty_."

Dick doesn't remember much after that. He recalls hearing the lackey behind him yelling and possibly Montey too.

Everything else is a blur.

* * *

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Catch My Breath

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

Apparently rest is only a four letter word in the Wayne household. Three maybe four hours, that's how long they give him before they pull him out from one of the most comfortable sleeps Jason's had in years. His eyes are barely open and already he's being thrown punches and hits like it's completely commonplace, just another typical Sunday morning.

Jason ducks another blow, something that's getting progressively harder and harder to do. Probably because he can barely think or see straight anymore. "Can we take a break or something?"

Tim sounds aggravated and moves even faster. "Do you ever stop complaining? You're the one who wanted to do this, remember."

A block that's way too close. "That was before I knew you had that giant pole you like to whip around."

"I hope you're referring to the staff." Tim says straight-faced.

Jason barks a laugh. "Oh wow a sense of humor, who knew?"

Tim swings around and Jason barely misses his kick. After about an hour of this, constant evasion and moving, he's starting to get more than a little worn out.

"So." He pants. Tim gives a half interested brow raise and he continues. "What does using a long stick to fight say about you, Timmy? "

That earns him a kick to the shin. "Ow! Jeez! Calm down. It was just a joke, pipsqueak."

"Don't call me that."

Another deliberate jab that he just manages to miss. Jason jumps back and wipes his damp forehead. "Fine. How about little birdie, is that better?"

This time it's a smack with that damn pole, right at Jason's face. "_Christ. _Watch it! You're gonna break my nose!" He yelps.

Tim shakes his head. "Not likely. The hit would have been superficial, not nearly hard enough to break your nose."

"How do you even know that? Are you a doctor?" His nose may be intact, but his pride certainly isn't. "Why the hell are you using that thing anyway? This is a spar, hand to hand. Not giant pole to hand."

Tim fiddles with the weapon in his hand, observing it like it's the first time he's ever seen it. "It's a _staff_." He informs. "You never know what you may come across when dealing with criminals. Better to be safe than sorry."

Jason turns to Bruce. The man watches everything with an immovable eye. "Does that mean I get a _staff_ too? I mean come on, it's hardly fair."

"Disarm him." Bruce says simply. Straight to the point, like it's just that easy.

Jason feels the beginnings of exasperation on top of exhaustion. He swipes at his sweaty hair. "Disarm him?"

"It's a weapon, you'll come across lots of them." Bruce reminds him.

Lots of them? Does he think they're going to war? "Yeah sure, except those guys probably won't be so damn fast." Wiry, the kid is wiry as hell. Talk about looks being deceiving. Tim's got some power behind that small frame and one hell of an aim. He's hit or almost hit every move he's made. Jason's going to be black and blue thanks to him.

"Stop wining." Tim takes another jab. He misses, but the failed attempt is Jason's last straw. He's tired, starving and up earlier than anyone in their right mind should be. The combination is cutting into his very limited patience.

He doesn't mean to hit so hard, but the strike is accurate and does what Jason needs it to. Tim looks surprised when he staggers back, he watches the staff fly from his hands and his face drops into a scowl. See how the little ass likes it. Not much, it seems. Jason has no further time to gloat because two back springs and one quick swipe later, the weapon is back in Tim's hands.

He just stares. "Seriously?"

Tim flips it once, twice. The smallest of smirks follows. "Seriously."

"Alright that's it. I don't think I can take much more of this."

Bruce sighs and Tim cocks his head. "Tired, already?"

Tired? More like drained. "It's like five in the morning. You people realize this isn't normal, right?"

Tim rolls his shoulders, rests the staff on them and gives a shrug. "I guess we're just not normal people."

Wow, did that sound even worse when Tim said it like that. Or he's just being a sarcastic ass, which seems more likely.

Bruce crosses his arms, face grave. "Jason we don't have much time, we strike tonight."

"Yeah, I know. Just give me a sec to breathe." Jason scratches at his arm. Bruce, Batman, whoever he's actually dealing with here, _Wayne_ is one tough son of a bitch. It's no wonder that Tim is as skilled with that staff as he is. Hours upon hours were no doubt spent prepping him, prepping _Robin_ as an adequate partner to the Batman. Robin, the idea of Dick being involved with the persona hasn't left his mind. "So let me ask. If you're Batman." He points to Bruce, then moves to Tim. "And you're Robin. Then can you tell me who Dick is? I mean I assumes he's..oh god, it's not Batgirl is it?"

Tim doesn't find him in the least bit amusing. The joke was bad, maybe a bit too personal, but his sour face is a bit dramatic. "I think that answer is quite obvious." Tim grumbles.

Jason's seen a picture of Batgirl. Tim is absolutely right. No way was that anything but a woman. A nicely shaped one at that. "Okay, who then?"

"I think there's a more pressing question you should be asking yourself Jason." Bruce prompts calmly.

"Oh, I've got lots of questions Bruce." Jason waves his hands around the cave. It doesn't help his feelings of uncertainty, just how damn crazy this all is. Batman, the billionaire vigilante with a kid sidekick that happens to be his son of sorts. It's still way too strange. And this damp, bat ridden cave doesn't help matters. "And I mean lots."

"I mean the most important question of all." Bruce counters.

Jason raises a brow, another cryptic question to a question. May as well humor him. "Which is?"

"Who are _you_?"

What the hell kind of question was that? Who was _he_? A profound thought. Obviously the query went deeper than the apparent, logical answer, but he really has no idea what to say.

"I'm..Bruce..it's really too early for the mind games, okay?"

Bruce doesn't exactly look disappointed, but sighs like he is. "Then you're not ready to know that yet."

Wow, that went to a place that actually made Jason feel intrusive. A simple _no_ would have sufficed.

"I didn't mean.."

"In order for this to work Jason, you need to find an answer. Even if it's hard, you have to know where you stand or you may end up toeing the line between two ideals. You want to stand fully on one side or the other, not both. You can't muddle your beliefs."

And what the flying hell did that mean? It's like they were talking about two completely different things. All he'd wanted to know was Dick's secret identity or whatnot and Bruce turned it into some _meaning of life_ bullshit speech.

"Can we get back to the training or what?" Tim sounds uncomfortable and Jason doesn't blame him.

"Yeah, I guess." He doesn't really want to, but Tim really seems antsy, shuffling his feet despondently. It doesn't seem fair to let him sit in the odd, almost depressing mood. However, Jason still feels he should clear the air first. "Look, I didn't mean to pry, I just.." but when he turns to face him, Bruce is gone.

"What the-?"

Tim drops his staff off his shoulders and gives a sound halfway between a laugh and sigh. "That's Bruce for you." He waves Jason's shock expression away. "You get used to it."

"Yeah right." Jason doubts that. Judging by the upset frown on Tim's face, having somebody disappear mid conversation was not something you ever got used to. "Is he always this cryptic and I don't know, spooky?"

Tim considers this. "Sometimes. It comes out more when he's worried, though. And the spooky thing..he is Batman after all."

Jason kneads a knot in his neck. "Yeah well, _Batman_ is a bit of a hard ass."

Tim twirls the staff. "You haven't seen anything yet." He makes a strike in the air and smirks. "And you should also know for future reference. The walls have eyes and _ears_." He motions to his eyes then to Jason. "Batman doesn't miss _anything_."

If that wasn't one hell of a dubious thought. Bruce had the place bugged, no doubt about it. He obviously had a complex and what seemed like extreme paranoia on top of it. Jason was learning his unusual mannerisms seemed to go deeper than just a few odd quirks here and there. Then again, being a masked vigilante might cause one more caution than the average Joe. Being a well-known billionaire would make trusting people even harder.

"So, no late night parties for you then? Must be hard to sneak out."

"I don't need to sneak out. Bruce trusts me." Jason's willing to bet Tim has a tracker too, so trust might be a bit of a stretch. Tim adds. "I only stay here occasionally anyways."

"You do? I thought you were Bruce's son..adopted or whatever?"

Tim voice lowers. "It's complicated."

Jason raises his hands. Last thing he needed was to get in the middle of family drama that wasn't his. "Sore spot. Hint taken."

Tim shakes his head. "No..not really. Just, how it_ is._ I guess." He sounds so..sad. Poor kid looks like the world is on his shoulders. Whatever it is he's got on his mind, he's way too young to have such a grim outlook on life.

"You want to talk about complicated." Tim looks at him in surprise and Jason continues with a bitter smile. "You should have met my folks. Now_ that_ was some complicated shit."

Tim almost smiles himself, then realizes who he's talking to. His mouth switches to a mid scowl that hardly has any heat. "I'm _sure_."

Jason might be upset at the snappy comeback if it wasn't obvious Tim was showing his appreciation. Barely recognizable as such, but appreciation none the less. Maybe he's read Tim all wrong. The kid clearly has issues with Bruce and something, someone else. Jason can relate more than he'll ever admit and the idea that they might find some common ground isn't such a bad one. He might even kind of like Tim.

Then the pole, staff, _whatever_ appears back in his face and all hopes of some false kindred bullshit goes out the window.

Apparently it was too much to hope Tim would spare him at the end of it.

"Round two?" Tim sounds hopeful. A bit cheekier than before.

Jason can't help but groan. Tim continues to stand there looking like an eager beaver and even though he's tired and irritated on top of it, Jason has a hard time guarding a smile at the renewed energy. It's odd being both annoyed and finding a natural rhythm in teasing the teenager.

He cracks his knuckles and readies his stance. "What the hell. Give it your best shot, little birdie."

Tim's on him like a fish to water and it starts all over again.

* * *

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* * *

Something's wrong.

Dick isn't sure what or when it happened, but whatever or whenever it did, everything, everyone has done an about face.

Things have gotten _odd_ to say the least. The air in the place has shifted and changed like a weathered storm. Paranoia, not quite fear, but close to it, seems to have infected the air not unlike a plague. The lackeys, more than Dick remembers there being, appear to be in varying bouts of arguing with and amongst themselves, unsure and completely unstable. It's a strange kind of confusion, a frenzy of some sort that has completely replaced the arrogant smugness previously displayed. Almost like they've lost a part of themselves. Whatever Penguin injected them with, it's not the old fear cocktail of the Scarecrow's.

No, this is something new.

Dick tries to remember exactly _what_ happened, but all he earns is a headache for his efforts. His fuzzy memory won't clear it's heavy cloud no matter how hard he tries. His memory may be crap, but by all rights Dick _himself_ feels fine. Whatever happened, _whatever's happening,_ it doesn't seem to have affected him.

In fact, he feels better than he has in quite some time. Renewed, energized and ready.

Antsy, he feels a little stir crazy, more than usual. Sitting here, even pacing does little to ease the restlessness. He needs to get the hell out of here. He needs to move. He feels like he's had the mother of all caffeine rushes. Like he'll never be able to sleep or close his eyes ever again. Everything seems to blur together and he really has no idea what he's doing or thinking anymore, only that's he tired of waiting. He can barely remember yesterday but today, tomorrow seems more important to him now. There's something bigger on the horizon that requires his focus.

His head suddenly feels light and he can barely breathe fast enough. He blinks away the temporary rush feeling a little dizzy afterwards. He can't take much more of this. He has to get out of here, out of this makeshift cell. Seemingly impossible with four solid walls, no windows and anything he could possible use for a break out being taken from him. He can't escape, but he has to. He has to do..something.

He doesn't know what that_ something _is, only that he has to do it.

And soon.

* * *

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* * *

"You need a name."

Jason misses the last bite of lunch, some fancy dish he could never hope to pronounce properly, and watches as it falls sloppily back on his plate. Tim makes a face, but Jason ignores him. It's Tim's fault for throwing the off-handed comment at him in the first place. Ruining his concentration like that.

He pushes the plate away. "Is this another one of those _finding myself_ kind of things? Cause if it is, you can save your breath."

Tim stops him with a firm head shake. "No. This is one of those you _need a name_ type things."

Jason prods the remains left on the table wondering how soon it will be before Alfred scolds him. "I have a name."

An exasperated sigh. "Do you have to make everything difficult?"

Jason smirks, Tim really does get wound up way too easily. "Fine if you insist. But what do I need a name _for_?"

Tim pokes at his food harder than seems necessary. "I'm not going to jeopardize anything because you decide to say something that might reveal our identities. Intentional or not it could happen. One slip no matter how small could ruin everything." He's using that adult tone again, the one that's really jarring on the senses.

"You guys really take this whole hero business pretty serious, huh?"

Tim snorts. "Yeah, we take the business of heroics _pretty_ serious." His tone shifts from sarcastic to more serious. "Do you even know how much work Bruce has put into this? All of it. Every last detail, it's all.." The unspoken words _all he has _fill the air as if he'd actually said them. "It's everything." Tim finishes into his plate.

Jason nods, not wanting to add anymore stress on the overloaded teenager's shoulders. "I get it, honest. Believe it or not, I don't want to ruin this, _whatever_ this is, for anyone. I just want to help Dick, end of story." He laughs. "I'll bet once it's over we'll probably never see each other again. Bruce will wipe my memory or something.." It was meant as a joke, but he couldn't help but wonder. "He can't do that, can he?"

Tim doesn't even hide his groan. "You're kidding, right?"

Jason moves closer, feeling safer quieting his words. "Look I don't even know what half of that stuff in there is, much less what it's meant for. Who knows what he's hiding in there." Was it that far of a stretch? "There's some seriously advanced technology down there."

Tim looks like he wants to push him back, he leans further away. "Bruce isn't into messing with stuff like that."

No, just mind-fucking the hell out of people. "If you say so."

Tim doesn't say anything in response and Jason really doesn't think he's going to. When he finally does it's almost a whisper. "I just don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"You." At his offended choke, Tim explains. "I mean why Bruce is doing this, letting you know his biggest secret. It's not like him being so _open_ about it, especially to outsiders."

Jason is actually just as puzzled by it himself, the thought hasn't really left his mind. "What about you and Dick, Alfred too. He told you guys right. Even got you involved." He tries to reason.

"There are very few people Bruce actually trusts, with _anything._" He makes a point of pausing. "And that's family. Alfred may not have agreed one hundred percent, still doesn't, but he helped raise Bruce and thus helped create this way of life. Dick fell on it by accident, quite literally. I, I figured it out on my own." Tim admits. That Jason did believe. Tim's deduction skills seemed awfully advanced for someone his age. "I just don't understand why he's showing you something so important, our whole way of life. Everything."

_To you_, it's the second unsaid truth that Tim believes yet doesn't speak.

"To be honest kid, your guess is as good as mine."

Tim doesn't seem to like that answer or at the very least isn't enthralled by it. "And then there's Dick." He adds with a twist of his mouth.

Jason didn't like where this was going. "What about Dick?" He knows better than to play completely dumb, Tim's too smart for that.

"You're doing an awful lot for a guy you met one time." Tim doesn't mask the distrust in his voice. "What do you want with Dick?"

"Want? I don't want anything from him."

"Don't treat me like a child. I wasn't born yesterday. I know how things like this work."

_Jesus_ he did not need to hear this. "Now hold on a just one second I never.."

Tim shuts him off. "I know we must seem like meal tickets to most, me and Dick. But there's something about Dick. People are inexplicably drawn to him. He's way too open, too willing to trust. He falls and he falls hard, he always see the good in people. It gets hard to watch, each time seems worse than the time before." Jason's not sure if Tim realizes he's basically calling his brother a doormat.

"What are you saying?" He asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer.

Tim's eyes flash a dark blue. "That if you hurt my brother, I'll show you what I can really do with that _pole_."

Jason would joke about the innuendo of that statement, but he really believes Tim just might do it. And it'll earn him more than a busted nose. "You've got nothing to worry about, okay? Like I told you before, it's not like that."

Tim stabs his fork. "I'm just warning you."

_Well thank god for that_ Jason thinks sourly. "And I'm telling you it's not like that, so how about we work on saving him instead of arguing about stuff that has no basis in reality."

Tim shoves a bite in his mouth. "Fine with me." He grumbles.

Well now that _that_'s settled. Tim continues to eat, almost robot like and they fall into silence. The dinning room seems so cold and lifeless with only the two of them at the massively over-sized table. It felt way too formal and uptight for something as casual as lunch. It seemed to be Alfred's tradition to serve everything he made as if it were a mannerly affair and Jason wasn't going to complain about good, free food. Even if he had nothing but empty chairs and a prickly Tim to keep him company.

He can only handle the silence for so long. And there's something else he realizes while studying the details of the room. "Bruce's been gone for a while now."

Tim makes a preoccupied noise. "He'll be back when he's ready." There's a finality, a hidden _let's not discuss_ _it_ that keeps Jason's tongue from any further questions.

Jason sighs. He doesn't know what's worse; the training, getting more bruises from a kid than some of the grown men he's encountered or the sitting around and waiting.

Tim's concern actually makes a lot of sense. It wasn't such a bad idea, creating a pseudo name to protect his identity. If it's true that this is really as important as Tim makes it out as, he may want to play along as long as he can.

"Hood." He says, his voice oddly magnified in the silence.

This time it's Tim's turn to look stupidly down at the mess outside his plate. The timing couldn't have been better for making him look like a gaping fish. "Pardon?" Tim asks slowly, like he's missed something.

"Makes sense doesn't it?" He gestures at Tim who continues to look bewildered. "Hood. Robin. Robin Hood. Come one tell me that's not some Shakespearean crap right there."

Tim looks slightly amused. "Maybe the crap, not so sure about the rest."

"You know it's a good name." He insists.

"It's a little." Tim's eyes rove. "..dark, don't you think?"

"You wanted me to have a name and now you're complaining about the one I choose, you're awfully hard to please Tim-bo."

Tim gives a huff that moves his whole frame. "Fine, whatever." He points with his fork. "Just don't ever call me that again."

"It's not what I would have picked."

The both turn to the returned Bruce. He stands casually with his hands in his pockets. His tone surprisingly light. "But I suppose as long as it doesn't involve actually archery of any kind, it'll do."

An odd thing to say. Even odder than the man's random appearance. He blends too well with the darkness of the house, just like his alter ego.

"Not a fan of archers?" Jason asks. Did he misses out on another hidden joke or something? Batman and Robin, Bruce and Tim, whoever they really were. They share a look that goes way over his head.

Bruce's mouth quirks upward. "Not particularly."

Tim snorts and tries to cover it with a cough.

Jason's stuck looking like the clueless asshole, yet again.

"No arrows then. Got it." He has no idea why, but this actually gets Tim to laugh.

Bruce's face falls. "Definitely, no _Arrows_."

And Jason leaves it at that. Tim continues unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter and Jason still has no damn clue what's going on.

* * *

Tim was right about one thing. Batman, Bruce too a lesser extent, but Batman the _actual_ Batman is very, very intense. Seeing it first hand, the kevlar, the cape, all that damn black, it's unreal and downright intimidating. A hero, Jason is standing before Gotham's most notorious hero. It's a feeling he can't say he'd ever thought he'd experience firsthand and yet here he is. Feeling completely out-of-place and awkward as shit.

Batman's eyes glow unnaturally in a white film of some kind. Not being able to see those eyes, surrounded by the black of the mask, it's incredibly unsettling. Especially when Jason knows those eyes are staring right at him, against that expression of stone, blank and cold. He represses a shiver only because Tim, _Robin_ is standing right next to him.

Intimidation isn't Robin's game, although his colors are surprisingly more muted than Jason had expected. Tim's cloaked eyes are easier to deal with, the small mask leaves most of his face open, unlike the Batman's cowl. That and Tim might be 5'5 at the most while Bruce is well over six feet.

And then there's Jason. Somewhere in the middle of it all.

"You need a different outfit." Tim's voice deepens slightly with the costume.

"Um.." Jason looks down at himself. He was hardly showy, a simple brown leather jacket with jeans, but probably not as inconspicuous as something like this warranted. "How do you propose that, exactly? It's not like I brought an over night bag with my hero costume. For any vigilante urges I might get during the night."

"Don't use that term." Batman says stiffly. Jason assumes he means vigilante and wisely decides to file the word under the _do not use in front of giant Batman_ pile. "And I've already taken care of it."

Jason shakes his head and moves back a few steps. "Oh no, I told you guys, I don't do.."

"Tights. We heard you the first time." Robin acknowledges tiredly.

"I think you'll find this will suffice, for now." Batman hands him a bundle and Jason isn't sure what to say.

He looks at what's in the pile and wonders if Br..Batman might know him a little better than he first assumed. "Not bad." The dark brown leather jacket is actually pretty nice, sleek without being too flashy. The grey form fitting shirt, black pants and gloves are pretty sweet too, not to mention the killer boots. It's the red eye mask laying on top that throws him off. He holds it tentatively. "What's this for?"

"Eyes are one of the easiest ways to identify someone. They can give away more than you mean to, not just your identity. They're the one thing you have to guard no matter what." Batman explains.

That actually makes sense. The idea is still a little weird, but Jason wonders if it won't be helpful in the end. He won't feel as bare as he does now, so vulnerable next to the other two all shrouded in mystery.

"Okay, this is fine." Both set of eyes stare expectantly at him from behind those whited out lenses which continues to make him squirm. He swallows. "I guess."

"We haven't got all night." Tim informs sternly.

"Yeah, right." He gives the clothes another once over. "Just out of curiosity, where did you get these?"

Batman smiles, but it comes off more as a sneer in the suit. "Let's just say Bruce Wayne had a little rebellious phase of his own in his younger days."

Now that would make for an interesting story. "You don't say."

Robin looks ready to spear something. "Hurry up already. You're the one who's been antsy all day so let's do this already!" He adds as an explosive afterthought while kicking the space in front of him. "_Dammit_."

Tim may or may not be blowing steam out his ass and even Batman is looking at him reproachfully, but now is not the time to test the limits of a moody teenager's temper. Jason does as he asks, though but not before asking one last question. "Bruce, you said earlier that wasn't the name you would have picked. What did you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"What would _you_ have picked?"

Batman doesn't answer, but somehow Jason didn't expect him to.

The clothes fit relatively well, surprising considering how much _bigger_ Bruce seems, but the mask is just strange. He can actually see better with it on which makes absolutely no sense.

"How does this..what is this?" Jason raises a hand filled with odd devices. He honestly can't tell one thing from the next. His technological skills weren't all that great to begin with, but he can't even begin to guess what half this crazy shit is.

Robin sighs and removes the objects from his hands. "Never mind. Just put this on your wrist." He points to the watch. "And this in your ear." He hands him a small bud for communication, like undercover agents would use.

"And what about those." Jason motions to the throwing stars or whatever that look like bats. Those look pretty bad ass and they're probably what Dick had used on his captors the day before.

"The batarangs?" Robin hesitates before he all but tosses them away. "Yeah, better not."

"Aw come on, let me have a little fun."

Robin shakes his head. "Maybe some other time."

Jason tries again. "Come on, I promise I'll be good."

"No." Robin emphases.

Batman signals all attention forward thus ending the useless argument. "We have one rule Jason. No matter what you must uphold this rule. And I mean under _no _circumstances are you allowed to break it."

Jason nods. "Okay."

"No killing."

Seemed like Batman was a big believer in the system, fair trials or something. It was a nice philosophy, but if Jason had learned one thing in his semi-short life on this earth, some circumstances it was kill or be killed. Death though unfortunate, was sometimes unavoidable. Not everyone could apply to that rule, that was impossible.

"That's a pretty big idea to throw out completely, don't you think? I mean even you must have.." Jason stumbles over his words. It didn't seem possible that Batman had spared every life, ever. Not that Jason was looking to start snapping necks, but if the situation called for it, got that dire, what other option was there? "..one time at least..right?"

"No lethal force." Batman hisses. "Am I understood?"

Jason nods. Another subject not up for discussion apparently. There seemed to be a lot of those popping up today. "Understood..sir?"

Batman's eyes narrow. "Then let's go."

Robin breezes past towards another bike that's obviously meant for him. "You can drop the _sir_." He whispers with amusement before he's gone.

Jason heads towards the other vehicle. The one he still can't believe is real much less right in front of his eyes. Solid under his gloves and in no way a figment of his imagination.

"This is fucking..," He can feel the glare on his back. He quickly rewords. "This is nuts."

Batman nods in approval. "Get in."

Jason has never been so happy to do anything in his entire life.

* * *

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

Catch My Breath

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

The abandoned warehouse district.

It's the same as Jason remembers. A little older, more worn down, basically dilapidated, but essentially the same. The same, sad, pathetic excuse of Gotham's wasteland. It brings back memories, none that are particularly good. Mostly just time spent alone, away from his deadbeat parents. An escape from an otherwise dark, dismal existence.

And no, that was not being dramatic.

Robin's crouched on the ground mumbling things to himself as he peers through a pair of binoculars that look right out of some sifi movie. Not much of what he's saying, or truthfully_ not_ saying makes any sense to Jason. He's not sure if Robin really is just talking to himself of if _he's_ supposed to be taking notes or something. He wasn't schooled on any of this.

"Um.."

Robin's voice raises past the inaudible moving of his mouth to a low whisper. "three..four..." He continues to count, getting progressively louder. His way of telling Jason to shut up.

Well excuse him for not knowing what in the hell the kid was doing. He's not a physic and Robin's not exactly sharing any kind of strategy with him.

"Seven in the front." Robin finalizes after his sweep.

"They're expecting us."

Robin nods to Batman's bodiless voice in his ear. "Looks that way." He lowers the binoculars and folds them up before putting them on his utility belt. "The question is, why?"

Jason crosses his arms. Did it really matter? "Who cares?"

Robin's leisurely pace is killing him. Seeing, finally _being_ here has him dancing on the edge of his seat, ready for action. The immediate dumping on the sidekick, the _babysitter,_ shouldn't bother Jason so much, but it does. Batman may as well have ejected him from the seat like he was on fire, it happened so fast. Jason knows he should have expected it. Bouncing around like the unwanted stepchild was nothing new, but after that little fit Robin took earlier, he was sure the kid would move a little faster. Be more prepared. He's taking way too many precautionary measures, landscaping the area like he's building his summer home. By the time he actually _does_ something they'll both be old and gray.

"Let's just take them out." Jason offers none too subtly.

Robin doesn't even look in his direction. "I'm gonna scope it out a bit closer."

"Finally."

Robin points a gloved finger in Jason's chest, stopping him. "_You_ are going to stay right here."

He may as well have slapped him. "You have to shitting..kidding me. Why?"

"Because you're _my_ responsibility and I said so." Yep, the glorified babysitter. Robin doesn't seem too happy about it, but that's no reason to blow Jason off like he is.

"Look I can help.."

Robin swipes his finger. "You _can_ help by staying here until I'm ready for you."

Jason wants to growl in frustration. "Who made you in charge anyway?"

It's a pointless question, said more out of desperation and annoyance than anything. Robin doesn't bother an answer just gives him a vague hand wave that seems more like a brush off. "Wait for my signal." He orders before jumping off the platform and into the vast area below. With the height they're at everything below them should be a clear, open stretch. Unfortunately, the heavy fog and almost inky darkness makes this nearly impossible. Robin disappears in a blur of black and red, and hell if Jason can see anything of him after that.

That might make signal making a little difficult.

He can't help but think Robin already knew that. Little shit was too smart not to.

He thinks Jason is going to sit here with his thumb up his ass and wait for something that he won't even be able to see. Screw that. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, he decides. He's not playing the unwanted baggage, not today. Definitely not in this place as he'd done so many times before.

_We'll see who finds Dick first. _

Immature or not, he's not playing Robin's little mind fuck of a game. He's gonna find Dick, with or without Robin _or hell,_ even the Bat's help. Then his supposed, _temporary_ teammates will see his worth instead of treating him like an overgrown child that still needs his ass wiped. Robin may have Dick's last known location etched in his super brain, but he's certainly not utilizing the information well, if at all. He wanted to prance around and finish his surveillance like a little nerd, good for him.

Jason's not doing that. He's done waiting.

_Sorry Tim-bo_

He takes the jump.

The boxcar underneath breaks his fall, heavy and solid beneath him. The traction helps keep him stable, but the noise caused from the impact might be a problem. He peers as far as he can around the immediate area, but doesn't see or hear anything aside from the far off sounds of the river. He pauses for a minuet, better to make double sure. Everything seems heavily amplified in the fog, but as far as he can tell, there's no one around.

Perfect.

His feet hit the ground in a crouch. Careful being as quiet as possible he pushes off, staying as close to the row of boxes as he can. The cars are rusted, aged by the harshness of time and half decayed. He's cautious of actually touching any of their surfaces, afraid he might disintegrate himself. He can't imagine how he was ever able to stomach this place. His disgust becomes even worse when he realizes he'd spent days out here sometimes. A poor, lonely kid with too much time on his hands and a fear of the sad excuse he called home. Fear that slowly turned into something else. Times, days he'd rather forget.

Not that life had really taken too many steps forward for him lately. Aside from crashing with Roy on occasion, home was pretty much a dumpy apartment and sometimes a girl or two that usually came and left within the week. He actually didn't mind it for the most part, he'd fared better than most others in his position, he knew that. He_ also_ knew the last forty-eight hours, this whole whacked out _affair_, had either destroyed or built something inside him. Good or bad, he felt like he'd gained a new perspective on things, maybe even on life itself. Maybe he could do this, this helping people _thing_. Maybe justice wasn't the crock of bullshit he'd always thought it was.

Maybe he was having delusions of grandeur. Maybe. Probably.

Either way, whatever he's feeling, not feeling, there's one thing he does know for a fact.

Robin's going to kill him.

"_Hood_, what the hell do you think you're doing? I told you to wait for my signal." Robin's doesn't sound so angry as he does annoyed, tired almost. He sounds younger in the speaker, like a damn little kid answering the phone.

Jason wonders if he should pretend he doesn't hear him.

"I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."

Jason smirks, smart ass. "Sorry Robbie. Looks like I took a bad step and was helpless to stop myself without my little bird to protect me." He pauses for effect. "Clumsy me."

Robin breathes a sigh that crackles unbearably shrill. "Do you think this is a joke? Stay where you are, that's an order. You're going to ruin everything by blindly throwing yourself wherever you please. We work as a team, not a.."

"Spare the team speech alright. I know what I'm doing and I'll be fine. Give me some credit, why don't you?" Jason continues to move, keeping his voice low, but not willing to stop on account of a pissy Robin's ruffled feathers.

"Earn it and I might. Right now you're being a danger to yourself. Worse a danger to the team. I knew this was a mistake." The last part is a mumble, but Jason still catches it.

Now Jason's the one getting ruffled. But instead of getting pissed off or upset, he plays amused. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" He continues in an all too chipper tone.

It's just the right way to further push the little bird's buttons, playing coy. Now Robin sounds frustrated on top of annoyed. "I'm telling you to stand down and wait for..."

Jason taps his ear, feigning difficulty with the communicator. "Sorry Robbie, you're barely coming in. Must be a bad connection." A big fat lie. Admittedly his massive grin might be a bad touch, if anyone were around to see it, but his words don't fool Robin anyway. Not that he expected them to.

"There's nothing wrong with the connection.." Robin states all too calmly.

He can't resist. "What was that? _Break_ the connection? Does that seem like such a good idea? I mean I am, as you keep putting it, a 'mistake' but then again.."

"Don't you dare.." Robin hisses.

Jason rips the device from his ear. "..you're the boss." He can still hear Robin's protests coming through and wants to stomp the small piece of shit until the sparks fly. Instead, he gives it one last look before tossing it over his shoulder. The watch follows, for good measure. Good riddance.

Taking what feel like the first real breath in a while, he continues towards the area he best assumes Dick might be held in. Maybe it's the way his mind works, not quite so logical or precise like Robin or the bat, more practical, even slightly criminal, but he knows he can find it. Even if it's on his own. That or it's his knowledge of the place that remains forever etched in his mind. His methods might be looked down upon, but old habits die hard.

He almost misses the first goon that he all but runs right into. Probably because the guy's shrouded in a rather convenient shadow and he can barely see him. Jason really wishes he had a gun. How do you take down armed goons freaking _head on_ when you don't have a gun? Disarm them, Bruce..Batman had said. Well that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

The guy notices him at about the same time Jason does him and the reaction is immediate, but not at all expected. "Oh sweet Jesus."The guy whispers. If the leader was Big Ugly this was definitely little scrappy. Little scrappy holds the gun as if he doesn't quite know what to do with it, looking like a frightened animal. Jason would call it cowering, but that would be beyond insane. For one very important reason.

This is the fucker that knocked _him_ out.

"Don't come any closer." Scrappy all but cries.

_What the fuck?_

Had Jason entered the Twilight Zone? Why the hell was this guy acting like he was going to piss himself at any second?

He takes a step forward and Scrappy nearly loses it. "I said don't come any.."

His head hits the metal behind him with a sickening thud. Not enough to mortally wound or even knock him unconscious, but enough to make Jason feel a little better. The gun slips from his hands and Jason catches it right before it hits the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows the Bat would disapprove, but right now, he doesn't give a shit.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that." Jason hisses. "Must be the concision. The concussion that you're sorry ass caused." He raises the gun to Scrappy's trembling eyes and waves it back and forth. "With this lovely little treasure. Or have you forgotten already?"

He's breaking the whole secret identity thing, another Bat no-no. He can't really say he cares after seeing this asshole.

Scrappy shakes his head. "I don't know man I.."

His head makes a second hit and this one leaves Scrappy grasping for breath. Jason has to stop himself from doing it a third time. "I'm sorry...I was just following orders. Please, let me go man. I promise it won't happen again. Honest."

He's gonna have to do better than that if he thinks Jason's going to let his pathetic ass walk. "Sorry pal, aint gonna happen."

"Look, I don't want any trouble." Scrappy doesn't even fight, just trembles.

Jason snorts. "Well it's a little late for that now, isn't it. Should have thought about that before you started licking some giant asshole in a suit heels, huh?"

Scrappy mumbles a name that sounds like Montey, but Jason ignores him. In fact, he's formulated a plan even better than his original non-plan and this stupid waste of sperm is going to help him. Whether he likes it or not. "Tell you what ass-hat. You help me with what I need and I might even let your sorry ass live."

Scrappy raises his head and looks torn between curiosity and brick shitting fear. "What..what do you want?"

Jason sneers at him. "You know that guy you captured. The one from the club?" As if the asshole didn't know who he meant. Scrappy nods uncertainly. "You're going to take me to him." Jason leans closer and Scrappy might actually _have_ pissed himself a little. "And if you try anything funny. I'll shoot your fucking dick clean off."

He pulls back. "Got it?"

Scrappy nods like he doesn't know how to stop.

"Good."

* * *

This is seriously not right.

The turnabout of this guy, his quivering and mumbling, it's astounding and _wrong_. This once cocky, by all accounts _capable_ lackey, reduced to a sobbing mess, it's beyond confusing. What the hell had happened to him to cause this? It didn't make any goddamn sense. Jason is almost convinced he's going to snap out of it, say _just kidding_ and pull another gun on him. Jason keeps this in mind while keeping the gun trained at his back, careful to watch his every movements.

This whole act could change in an instant and if and when it does, Jason will be ready. He's not putting anything past this asshole.

At first, it honestly doesn't feel like this idiot is leading him anywhere. They're just past the dock leading out to the river. It's odd that they haven't run into anyone else, or maybe Robin's already taken care of them, either way Jason's glad. Although he can't shake the feeling that he's headed towards something he's going to regret, what could quite possibly be a trap, the less of these freaks he meets along the way, the better.

When they finally arrive at a new addition, something Jason knows he's never seen because there's no he wouldn't notice _this,_ his suspicion doubles. He's staring down the lengths of a cave feeling both confused and apprehensive. It's not like the constructed cave under Wayne Manor, but an honest to god formed by nature cave. It puts an even darker shade on Scrappy's intentions.

"Is he really down there?" Jason doesn't keep the distrust out of his voice.

Scrappy rubs his hands nervously. "He is. I swear."

Taking the word of some scumbag Jason wouldn't trust his pet goldfish to seems pretty damn stupid, but he still feels like he has the upper hand and as long as he has that, he feels a little more secure. Not much, but a little. He presses the gun harder. "Then lead the way."

It doesn't look like Scrappy is going to move for a minuet. His legs seemed to have stopped working completely.

"We haven't got all day." Jason informs. "Unless you'd like to test my aim. Just to warn you, I might be a little rusty. Might take me more than one bullet if you catch my drift."

That puts a fire under Scrappy's ass. "R..Right. This way." He squeaks.

What little light the moon provides outside is quickly dimmed as they enter. Jason's boots hit sloshy mud almost immediately and he can't escape a look of disgust. He doesn't even want to know what he's stepping in, much less how and why the cave smells the way it does. Like a mixture of mildew and what's really worrying, the stench of blood.

It's a straight shoot for several minuets. There's crude lights all around, but it's still pretty hard to see. Scrappy keeps his pace faithfully moving forward. Jason keeps the gun levelly behind him, wondering when they were going to run out of cave. It didn't seem like the thing could go on for much longer. When the path finally splits itself into two different paths Jason feels his doubts grow tenfold. "Remember who has the gun before you try to do something stupid." He warns before Scrappy picks their path.

If this influences Scrappy's choice in any way, Jason has no clue. He can only hope the threat is enough. As much as he likes the_ idea_ of blowing this dickhead's balls off, he really hopes he doesn't actually_ have_ to. Wouldn't want to ruin his chance at a new existence already. Not to mention, he'd never hear the end of it from the bat clan. They'd probably lock him away for such a thing. Toss him in a cell and throw away the damn key.

Bruce had that kind of power, he was sure of it. Besides, Jason was pretty sure he was in enough trouble with them already. Hopefully bringing Dick back would save him some of the heat, but probably, _definitely_ not all would be forgiven.

Robin had already signed his death certificate, with or without the no kill nonsense. Jason was sure of _that_.

"Here, he's right in there." Scrappy finally stops them in front of a door. Oddly placed in the wall and yet solidly built with no window, no nothing. How long did they plan to keep someone alive that way? Jason doesn't want to find out. He tries the door, but the handle doesn't budge. Locked.

"Don't suppose you have a key?"

Scrappy shrugs uselessly.

Of _fucking_ course not. "Great. Well, do you know where one is?"

"No." Scrappy eyes widen at something behind Jason. He almost reverts back to a semblance of his old self when he gives a laugh that doesn't sound quite right. "But he might."

The blow comes as somewhat of a surprise. It's enough to send Jason flying forward a bit, but not enough to take him off his feet. Whoever the asshole is, he's gonna be sorry for doing that. Scrappy gives another hysterical laugh, but stops when the second goon, whoever the fuck he is, throws him effortlessly to the side and against the wall, knocking him out cold. No loyalty between these two it seemed. When he's finished, he turns. He's coming for Jason next.

And this time Jason's ready for him. He aims the gun knowing he won't, no _can't_ use it, while searching in vain for an alternate route to end this. Hopefully, this big lug actually has the key he needs and Jason wouldn't have to go fishing for it.

The lug takes one look at the gun and something in his eyes shifts from anger to fear. It happens suddenly, like the flipping of a switch. Shit, not him too. What the fuck was going on in this place? Was there something in the air? If so, or whatever the hell else was going on, he needed to get Dick and his own ass out of here and quick. The lug looks like he might bolt and Jason can't have that, not until he gets the key.

"Look you overgrown piece of shit, you give me the key and I'll save you're brains from painting the wall behind you, deal?" Jason grips the gun, playing as serious as he can. The lug looks hesitant, beady eyes roving to and fro before he finally nods. Jason isn't so much surprised that he hands it over as he is the guy has it in the first place.

It seems way too damn easy, but Jason's not gonna ask questions. He'll take the hand out even if it seems way too good to be true. One thing he can't take though, is this lug running off to alert any other goons that might be around to his presence. As soon as the key is in his hand, the lug is on the floor. He almost feels bad for doing it, mostly cause they both seemed so..out of it, but he really has no other choice. It's them or him and Jason's not in the mood to play martyr. And he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good.

"Sorry guys. Had to do it. You understand." He mumbles absently, knowing they can't hear him. He grabs the lug's gun and tosses it into his belt. A reassurance in case _Luggy_ decides to wake up and realize who he is..was and remembers how to use said gun.

"Don't know what was in the Kool-aid guys, but something tells me it wasn't just sugar."

He examines the key. He could stand here all day weighing the pros ad cons of using it. Not knowing Scrappy's real plans and how much he was faking or tripping or _whatever_ the hell was going on, it did seemed pretty foolish. The asshole had to have something up his sleeve_,_ sending Jason on a wild goose chase, setting him up. Nothing else made sense. Then again_...Fuck it. A_ll this speculation is giving him a damn headache. Even if it's against his better judgement, and somewhere, in his rational mind, _it is,_ Jason's going for it.

What does he have to lose at this point anyway?

_Famous last words._

He ignores the voice that kind of sounds like Tim and puts the key in the lock. It slides in with ease. He's not sure if he's happy or worried.

Taking a breath, he turns the lock.

* * *

If there were a soundtrack to Jason's life, this would be the part with the record scratch.

Or the cricket chirp.

Because there's..

..nothing.

There's nothing. He moves the door further to get a better view, but it doesn't help. The darkness inside would be hard for anyone to see through and in the already abysmal light all he sees is black.

Fucking nothing.

A dead-end. He wants to kick that asshole Scrappy's ass into next week for his troubles, but doesn't even have the energy. "Fuck." He slams the gun against the nearest wall. "Mother Fucker."

Back at square one.

He takes one step in, kicking some strange-looking rock out of his way. He barely restrains the growl he wants to throw into the universe for his shitty luck. The rock hits the back of the small room, just as something hits _Jason_ from above. Not just hits, no, that was too kind a word. Pummels, drops down on, _flattens_ all seemed like better choices. He feels like a freaking pancake and he can barely breathe, see, or think past the bright stars exploding in his vision. Whatever, whoever it is they squeeze their thighs tighter around his lungs.

He wheezes trying to talk, trying to say anything, but words, even sounds fail him.

There's a pause, a silence that drifts with the heaviness of the air.

"You're new." The voice above him states.

Jason can't place much with his head ringing like it is, but he does recognize something and that's _that_ voice. One he won't soon forget. Too bad he can't put the name to his tongue fast enough to say it.

"Hold on." The voice continues. He feels the body shift, lean in closer. "I think I know..." A intake of breath. "Oh my god! Jason!?"

_Bingo,_ he would say, if he could. He shifts his head in what he hopes is as a nod.

"Jason you're alright! How..what are you doing here?"

The weight seems to multiply as the body moves again. He wants to push it off, but he can't. "Can't...breathe.." He finally manages to choke out.

"Oh." The tone shifts to sheepish. "Sorry about that."

The weight thankfully leaves a moment later. Jason rolls to his side, gasping for all the sweet air he can without looking like a complete dumb-ass. "You're..fucking..heavy." He croaks before settling on his back.

He can safely say this wasn't the rescue he'd planned.

"Such a charmer." Dick reaches down and offers his hand. "If it helps at all, I _really_ am sorry. But..I..how did you find this place?"

Jason takes the hand and dust himself off. "It's a long, boring story. I'd rather talk about what the hell where you doing up there." He gestures to the ceiling then decides he probably doesn't want to know. "Never mind I really don't think.. " Then it hits him. "Hold on a sec, how did you know it was me?"

Dick consider this and shrugs. "You have a memorable face?"

So much for being incognito. Damn mask was useless. He pauses at Dick's statement. "Really? I've never heard that before."

"Maybe, I just have a thing for remembering faces?" Dick offers before changing the subject. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was pretty worried."

"..Yeah...but are you? Okay, I mean." Although Dick looks fine by all accounts, with all the crazy shit he's seen it wasn't completely unreasonable to ask.

Dick examines himself. "Yeah, I think so."

It's great that Dick's great, he's great, they're all great, but something's still wrong here. "Don't know if you've noticed, but it's kind of gone _forth encounter_ around here." He motions to the fallen bodies.

"Yeah." Dick's hand moves to the side of his neck. Jason's not sure he realizes he's rubbing, more like scratching at it, actually. "They did something..injected them with something. I don't know what. They started acting..it was weird."

Maybe Dick wasn't as _great_ as he'd thought. "Did they.." He hesitates and motions uselessly. ".. you, too?"

Dick drops his hand and shakes his head. "I don't think so."

_Thank Christ._

"Well that's something. But if this thing is in the air, I really don't want either of us to catch whatever the hell it is." Jason still has his doubts about this whole thing not being some elaborate trap. His emotion are mixed to say the least. Relief is settling in the spot Dick had crushed just a short while ago, but he also knows they aren't safe here. "So unless you want to be mind wiped too, we should probably get moving."

Dick is quick to agree. At least his priorities are straight. He nods. "Right."

One very important matter presents itself as Jason gets a better look at Dick. He's not sure if he should voice it, but the fact is, it's pretty obvious. "Your shoes.."

Dick looks down at his bare feet. "Oh those." He states casually, like it's no big loss. "Don't really remember what happened to them. I'm sure they're..somewhere around here..It doesn't really matter. I don't need them." He grabs Jason's shoulder, his eyes look unnaturally bright, almost glazed over. "Let's go."

Jason watches him with a growing feeling of unease. Something, he can't put his finger on exactly _what_, but something seems off. He wonders how far off the abduction idea really is. "You sure?" He asks, then adds. "Cause I'm not carrying your heavy ass out of here if you change your mind."

Dick laughs and Jason figures it's the best answer he's going to get.

They make it out of the cave. Dick doesn't comment on the two unconscious bodies or the gun in his belt, while they do so. It's not until they reach the end when he suddenly stops, nearly sending Jason tumbling over him, that he says anything. "You should get rid of that."

Jason looks at the gun, he'd dropped the other one in the cell, but for some reason this one seemed harder to get rid of. Weird considering it isn't even _his_.

"He really doesn't like them." Dick sighs. "And frankly, neither do I."

"I..wait, _who_ doesn't?"

Dick gives him a knowing look. "I think you know. Big guy, likes to wear black. Has an affinity for bats." He motions pointed ears on his head. "That one."

"How did you know he was involved?"

Dick smirks. His eyes look a bit clearer than in the cave. Maybe the fresh air was helping. "Somehow you don't strike me as the kind of guy that dons a mask and rescues people because he's bored. And while I'm glad you did I'm pretty sure you either had a reason or influence." He looks thoughtful. "Maybe both."

_Goddammit._

Jason tosses the gun. He's sad to see it go, but figures it's probably for the best. They need to find the others and being caught with a _non_ Bat-approved weapon, on top of everything else, didn't seem like a good idea. He feels a tug at the inside of his jacket and turns to almost collide with the top of Dick's head. "What are you..?" Dick retrieves whatever he was looking for in the hidden pocket.

And stays too close for comfort.

"_This_, was also a giveaway." He holds it up, but Jason still has no idea what he's looking at. Or how Dick knew it was there.

"...and that is?"

Dick hands the small device to him. "Press the button."

Jason presses it. Nothing happens. "What did that do?"

"Give them our location. It's kind of like a panic button. You don't have a communicator, do you?"

"The small thing in the ear?"

Dick nods.

"Nope."

"Watch?"

"Nope."

Dick quirks his head. "You said that awfully quick."

Jason avoids his gaze. "Let's just say I _may_ have had them at one time, and _may_ also have lost them."

"Accidentally, of course." He can all but hear the smirk.

"Of course."

Dick makes a humming noise. "You don't strike me as _that_ clumsy. Let me guess, too much Bat?" He sounds almost sympathetic.

Jason sucks his cheek. "Nope, although I'm pretty sure I'm not getting any brownie points with him now either. It's the bird."

Dick chokes on a laugh. "Robin? _Really_?"

The disbelieving brush off kind of annoys him. "Is that so hard to believe?" It wasn't like Tim was a saint or anything. The kid had been pretty keen on keeping Jason aware of that.

"A little. Most people like Robin." Dick makes a vague gesture. "He's the _friendly_ one, after all."

Jason couldn't find that any more untrue. "I would have to disagree."

Dick laughs. He doesn't bother with any defense, just shakes his head. "I just can't believe they let you do this alone. It's pretty dangerous..or was, I guess. Still could be..." He drops his words and seems to realize. "You _didn't_ come here alone."

A dark shadow falls behind them.

"No, he didn't." Batman's voice is a low rumble, his eyes nothing but white slits. He doesn't sound happy. "You okay?" He continues to look at Jason, but apparently the question is for Dick.

"Never better." Dick says. The light tone seems forced and out-of-place.

Batman still doesn't break eye contact.

"Er..look what I found." Jason points toward Dick who doesn't seem nearly as worried as the situation seems to warrant.

"Let's go. Now." Batman looks like he might start breaking fingers if Jason so much as looks at him sideways. His dark cape billows into the night after him.

Jason really wishes he were somewhere, anywhere else at that moment. Dick pats his shoulder in what can only be sympathy. "Don't worry, he hasn't killed anyone, yet."

Jason takes no comfort in that. "You know the saying." Dick looks at him curiously. "There's a first time for everything."

Dick doesn't disagree and _that_ bothers Jason a hell of a lot more than it should.

* * *

TBC...


End file.
